


Anonymity

by jusrecht



Category: Gundam SEED, Gundam SEED Destiny
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-02-17
Updated: 2007-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dearka doesn't know what he has done when he invites Chairman Zala of PLANT to his New Year masquerade and introduces him to General Yamato of ORB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Dearka Elsman loves trouble. Many will agree to this statement, including the subject himself who hardly does anything to prove the opposite and gives it his heartfelt support in various ways instead, for example with having a Natural girlfriend once.

He grins, taking another sip of red wine from his glass, and rises from the couch. He walks to the window which looks over to the garden's estate and pulls open the heavy velvet curtain halfway. The sky is dark still – it is around four in the morning – and in the distance, he can see the colourful city light. He always likes coming here to the chairman's estate, one of the most obvious reasons being the feeling of isolation it always brings him. Aprilius One – and the entire PLANT in that matter – relies on technology very much and their modern environment more than testifies for it. A place like this, a piece to remind what the beautiful Earth looks like, is a rare gift he is only too eager to claim whenever the opportunity arises.

The other reason is currently sleeping in the large bed in the middle of the room, oblivious to all these thoughts running in his head. Like he has admitted earlier, Dearka really loves trouble. Sleeping with the chairman of PLANT is only one of the proofs – although a big one at that – and he is perfectly aware that this mad feat will only get him into more troubles later.

If one asks why, he will grin and say that the chairman is so irresistibly fuckable. The truth is, it just happened. Around a year ago, he found out that the one he loved would soon be engaged and he could do nothing about it. More than that, Yzak never actually tried to show him that their relationship was more than a casual fling and he raised no objection to the engagement plan either. Dearka may be stupid in a lot of things, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one.

But he came to the party. It was the engagement of his best friend anyway, to another friend of his no less. The problem is, Dearka genuinely likes Shiho Hahnenfuss. She is sensible, very straightforward and an exceptional pilot, something that he always respects. They could be good friends if this didn't happen, but he realizes that one cannot always get what he wants.

So yes, he came to the party, congratulated the couple and got himself drunk. It wasn't polite, but he really couldn't care less at that time. In the end, it was Athrun who took him home early after arguing for ten minutes with the head of his bodyguard squad. He only remembered being hauled to the backseat of his car and left there to tend to himself as someone drove him back home. His apartment was dark, but the small bedside lamp Athrun had turned on made him realize how pretty his friend was and that was that.

Well, he was drunk.

The full realization of what he had done didn't hit him until the next morning. Dearka woke up with a killer hangover, naked and alone. If there wasn't such a mess in his bed, he might not realize that something was wrong, but he noticed and everything started to come back slowly.

It was the second morning Dearka had ever contemplated committing suicide. Besides, his crime should be enough to get him a capital punishment, shouldn't it? Molesting the chairman of PLANT wouldn't look good on any resume except for going to jail. Or the gas chamber.

He knew he had to talk to Athrun, but the ridiculous thing was, to meet with the chairman of PLANT even for something as important as this, he had to make an appointment. No exception. Dearka couldn't imagine how his face must look when Meyrin announced that Captain Dearka Elsman was here to meet with the chairman.

Athrun looked small and tired sitting behind his enormous desk and Dearka asked himself how the hell he could ever bring the topic up. Maybe he was just dreaming, but then his friend asked if he was feeling better and he knew that he had to know what had happened, even if it was just for himself. He threw the question and Athrun looked back at him steadily.

" _The question should be whether I did something to you."_

At that point, Dearka was already confused. He might be drunk, but he still remembered some of the details, which suddenly made him want to hit his head on the wall over there. It looked pretty sturdy.

" _You were drunk,"_ the younger man explained and Dearka went into a rambling of how it still didn't excuse what he had done, not only because Athrun was the chairman but also _you are a friend, damnit._ And suddenly Athrun smiled and pointed out that he was also Yzak's best friend, or was it a different kind of friend? There was no way Dearka could contradict that and so he only stared, openmouthed as the other man rose and approached him.

" _I know how you feel about Yzak,"_ he said, " _and I'm sorry for what happened. Last night was a mistake. I knew you were drunk. I promise it won't–"_

Dearka knew that he must have gone crazy because at that moment, he kissed Athrun.

Everything started from that one kiss. Sometimes it would be in his apartment and sometimes the chairman would plainly order Dearka to come to his estate. Once it happened in his ship because Dearka would never, ever miss a chance when his friend came out of the shower dripping wet like that, but it was never in the office. For Athrun, his office was sacred and Dearka thought he understood why. It went on and on. He tried to forget Yzak, but he never deluded himself with the thought that Athrun might love him. Still, he never asked why.

Until four months ago.

Athrun was particularly desperate that night, again and again wanting him harder, faster, and while Dearka did not mind, he couldn't help but to be puzzled. He kissed Athrun's neck when they were done and finally asked. His friend's laugh was bitter and he told him about responsibilities, pretenses, frustration. _I trust you,_ he said, _that's why I can let you do this to me without fearing that you will blabber and destroy me._

Dearka remembers thinking that night that if he hadn't fallen in love with Yzak, he might fall for this blue-haired beauty.

As far as he knows, no one realizes the true nature of their relationship except Shinn Asuka, the chairman's head of security. Or if anybody knows, they must be keeping their mouth shut. Dearka loves trouble, but he will rather die than getting someone important to him in trouble.

"What are you doing there?"

Dearka smiles and puts his glass on the table before walking over to the bed. Athrun is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, looking annoyed for some reasons. Unsure, he sits on the edge of the bed and decides that he isn't really expected to answer that question.

"It's only four. You should go back to sleep," he says softly. God knows his friend loses a lot of sleeping hours in the last few weeks because of the escalating conflict between Coordinators and Naturals.

"Yeah, I have to get up at seven," Athrun mutters and looks up sourly at him. "You don't have anything to do today, do you?"

Dearka hides a little smile. "We have vastly different responsibilities, Sir. I can't help it if mine is much smaller than yours."

"Oh, shut up," the other man grumbles and settles deeper into the bed. Dearka takes it as an invitation and slips himself back in, wallowing in the warmth left by his friend.

"I was threatened by Asuka yesterday," he says, not exactly knowing why he brings up the subject at four in the morning.

"He doesn't like you," Athrun mumbles, disinterested.

"And do you know why?"

"Should I?"

"Of course," Dearka assumes a deeply serious tone. "It concerns you, my friend. Have you ever heard of this catastrophe called jealousy?"

That gets a more definite reaction from the chairman. Athrun turns around and gives him an incredulous look. "Shinn? Are you out of your mind?"

Dearka raises his eyebrows in question. "What then?"

"You disturb his duty and you always attract trouble."

The quick, no-nonsense answer takes a grin out of him. "A fair point."

"Now I can't sleep anymore," Athrun accuses like it is his fault. Which may have a ring of truth in it.

"We can always play," Dearka suggests innocently, which earns him a dry look from his friend. He grins in return. If there is something he knows about Athrun, it is that he never can get angry with Dearka, who unfortunately for him never hesitates to play this card whenever the need arises. Like now.

The blue-haired man sighs and the next thing Dearka knows, he already has a pair of emerald eyes looking down at him, complacency nothing but evident in them. For a moment he is unable to react as the familiar weight settles itself more comfortably on top of him. Athrun smiles at him, the kind of smile that makes Dearka feel that his pants are nothing but a nuisance, and leans down, lips tracing the outer shell of his left ear.

The table is turned, he realizes with giddiness crawling all over his body.

"You want to play?" the other man drawls in a voice that always makes his hair stand up on its end, his breath hot and tempting. "Then we'll play."

Dearka is all too happy to oblige, but Athrun has put a finger on his lips. "I have one question first. Someone told me that you're having a New Year party in your house. Can I come?"

If nothing else, the triviality of the question throws him overboard. "You're doing this just to get an invitation from me?"

Athrun gives him one of his I-know-I'm-an-enigma smiles. "Who knows?"

"Don't you have anything important to attend, Sir?" Dearka shoots wryly. "You know, all those chairman-ly stuff."

"You mind me coming, Captain?"

"No, of course not," he feigns a heavy sigh. "It's just that you always steal all the women."

"I thought it's a masquerade."

"Does it make any difference to you?"

"No," Athrun answers with a smirk. "I know nobody can resist my charm."

And that is about the point when Dearka feels another barrier collapsing and pulls the other man down to a kiss. Athrun doesn't fight him. Instead, the way his lips move suggests an entirely different thing, but Dearka abandons his train of thought at that because a more pressing matter is at hand, namely his friend's tongue. For a long moment, his brain refuses to accept any other thought until the kiss is broken and Athrun stares down at him again, looking even more molestable than before.

"So, do I receive an invitation?" he repeats the question, green eyes promising a lot of things he cannot even begin to imagine. Dearka always knows that the last thing about Athrun he is able to resist are those eyes, and it doesn't help that they are looking at him like that. Still, he has to hold up his end of bargain.

"That depends on what I get in return," he tells the younger man solemnly.

"And pray tell, Dearka, what do you want in return?"

"You."

Athrun looks genuinely amused. "As in?"

"Your body, soul, everything."

"You only want the first," he accuses, mocking a pout.

"How well you know me, Sir," Dearka replies with a grin and slips a hand under the blanket, thrilled when a new light comes into his friend's eyes.

"Then we have a deal," is the whisper he hears before Athrun kisses him again.

  
_**End Chapter 1  
** _


	2. Chapter 2

  
Kira bowed, earning badly-suppressed giggles which almost took a wince out of him in return, and quickly but politely made an escape toward the chattering crowd. That was enough, he decided as he walked to the other side of the room, eyes already looking around automatically in search of his sister. One or two giggling girls were perfectly fine, but this was obviously more than he could handle. Besides, he should have kept an eye on Cagalli. Letting her slip out of his sight was a mistake. This was PLANT. What if someone recognized her as the Head Representative of ORB and decided that she should be erased from the picture once and for all?

The problem with masquerade was, he realized a moment later, that everyone present seemed to wear a mask. And then there was the dress code to complicate the situation. Kira had not been thrilled when he found out that they were required to wear medieval costumes – all those tights, doublets and capes – and the idea proved to be even less likeable now. He squinted toward the crowd and immediately found himself lost in a blizzard of colours, gowns and masks. He felt like he was peering into a kaleidoscope. The dim lighting wasn't helping either, although he had to admit that it did create just the right atmosphere.

Anxiety started to crawl in the pit of his stomach. He needed to find Cagalli fast. He remembered that she was wearing a green gown – at first, she had insisted on wearing men's clothes because _this is a masquerade, my dear brother, why not let them think that I'm just a very pretty boy_ until Kira reminded her just why they were coming in the first place – but there were all sorts of green fluttering around. Light green, olive green, lime green, dark green, sparkly green. If anything, he felt infinitely more lost than before.

Maybe she was with Kisaka, Kira calmed himself and looked around for the dark, bulky figure of Cagalli's acting bodyguard when his arm was seized so suddenly that he almost threw the other person to the floor. Fortunately, common sense took over and he turned around, finding himself face-to-face with his sister's sunny grin.

"Hey, rolling all night long, aren't you, brother?" she teased, golden eyes radiant in the dark green frame of a butterfly-shaped mask. "You practically never leave the dance floor."

"I cannot refuse, it will seem suspicious," he replied, feigning a long-suffering sigh. "But I see you weren't standing idly either."

Cagalli made a face at him. "At least you don't have to dance in these shoes. Four dances so far and my legs are already screaming."

He grinned. "Tough luck, sister."

"Says you, the man," she shot back tetchily. "I doubt medieval women wore these things from hell with the amount of party they were having. But at least all my dance partners know what they are doing. I still remember when Kisaka stepped on my toe in your birthday party last year."

"That's because you were drunk and insisted him to dance with you," Kira reminded with an even wider grin. "Where is our dear colonel, by the way?"

"Somewhere in the shadows," she waved toward the less lively area of the room and added with a shudder, "I can practically feel his eyes on me all the time."

Kira felt his eyebrows shooting up at the last sentence. "You do know that somebody can hear that and put it the wrong way, don't you?"

"That's only you and your dirty mind, little brother," Cagalli retorted acidly.

He let it pass with a meek smile and took his sister hand as they started to walk slowly around the room. "So, how is it so far?"

"I don't know," she sighed deeply. "Two of my dance partners refused to talk about the war. One of the remaining two clearly announced that the first Natural to cross his path would end up worse than dead. Imagine my face when he said that. The last one is sympathetic though."

"At least your efforts have been productive," Kira pointed out. "All I got are giggles and 'oooh, it's scary'."

Cagalli smirked at him. "You simply attract the wrong type of girl."

"I prefer not to attract any type of girl at all."

"With a killer body like yours? Did you bang your head somewhere, Kira?"

"Kaine."

"Whatever," she waved an uninterested hand over the topic of his false name and turned toward the dancing crowd. "I think I should try a few more dances. Too bad the chairman of PLANT doesn't come. If he's as liberal as Dearka says, I want to try talking to him."

"How do you know he's not here?"

She shot him a look that said _isn't it obvious_. "If he's here, I think we'll bump into a scowling bodyguard in black suit once every few feet."

"How do you know the two you were dancing with earlier were not those bodyguards in disguise?" he retaliated easily but soon lost any interest to continue the small debate when he noticed a young lady in a red dress with gigantic feathers adorning her hair approaching. "Oh god, save me," he muttered weakly, gripping Cagalli's arm.

"Hey there, handsome," the woman smiled flirtatiously at him and Kira suppressed an urge to hide behind his sister, "what about the next–?"

"Are you blind or something?" Cagalli cut her off brusquely. "Can't you see that he's my man?"

The woman seemed too stunned to respond and Cagalli used the chance to drag her equally stunned brother to the other side of the room. It took Kira a few seconds to recover and when he finally did, he pulled his twin into his embrace, laughing hard.

"That is just _so_ rude," he remarked gleefully, ignoring her feeble protests. "And since when have I become your man?"

Cagalli whirled around and jabbed a finger to his chest, glaring. "You asked me to save you, you ungrateful little brother."

"Excuse me, Lady."

The voice put an abrupt stop to their little argument and Kira turned around, ready to return the favor and save his sister when he recognized the first man as Dearka Elsman. The tall ZAFT officer was nothing but recognizable, even in a costume and a mask. There was the telltale colour of his skin, and then the unruly golden hair and an easy, slightly cocky grin that rarely left his face. Kira would recognize that grin anywhere.

It was the second man, however, that caught his eyes and made everything and everyone else suddenly seem less interesting.

If there was such thing as falling at first sight, Kira was certain that this would be it. The man was smaller in built compared to Dearka, had shoulder-length dark blue hair and emitted an air that just compelled people to look his way. His silvery white mask made Kira feel like he was looking at a mysterious prince from the storybook his babysitter had often read to him and Cagalli when they had been little. He used to make fun of those stories and now wondered if they had decided to get back at him.

The other man seemed to realize that he was the current object of Kira's scrutiny and sent him a furtive glance. His expression was unreadable, but the little upturn of his mouth spoke of amusement. Kira suddenly had a strong impulse to reach for that mask and put it away, if only to see what kind of face this stranger was hiding.

"Pardon us for intruding your tête-à-tête," their host said again graciously, easily severing his wayward train of thoughts, "but this man here insists that he should have a dance with the beautiful lady."

"Dearka!"

"You're saying my name!" he protested, sounding scandalized. "What's the point of a masquerade if you're going around and telling everyone that it's me?"

The blue-haired man rolled his eyes. "You're the host. Everyone can tell that it's you."

"I hate it when you can talk back to me," Dearka sighed and Kira wondered if he was just imagining the affectionate edge in it. "Anyway, I'll leave you two alone now. Come on, cool guy."

He was pulled away almost forcefully by his dark-skinned friend to the long table where refreshments were served. He absentmindedly accepted a glass of chardonnay, eyes still following the couple who by now had made their way toward the dance floor. Cagalli was an excellent dancer, something she had mastered through hours of practice rather than talent since her position as the Head Representative required her to cover if not all, most customary fields. She was proud of it and Kira was proud of her. That kind of satisfaction was something that he, the ultimate coordinator, would never know.

They fell into the routines of waltz almost immediately, blending in with countless other pairs. Her partner, he noticed with a strange sense of exhilaration, was able to stand on par with her in terms of dancing, if not better. His movements were graceful, effortless, like he had done nothing but dancing his whole life. There was smooth precision in his timing, in the flourish of his hand and the turn of his feet, and Cagalli fit into everything seamlessly.

Kira was fully aware that he was staring, but for the life of him he was unable to tear his gaze from the blue-haired man.

"Enjoying the view?"

He looked away sheepishly and turned toward Dearka's knowing smirk. The taller man offered him a selection of cakes from his plate and he took one, if only for the sake of preventing himself from blushing.

"Who is he?" he asked after swallowing the first bite, trying to sound casual. His friend threw him an amused look and Kira knew that his attempt had failed.

"This is a masquerade, my dear friend, do you think I will simply hand you information as classified as that?"

Kira smiled. "Who knows? You're always nice to me. Thanks for the invitation by the way. I think she needs it."

"Glad to be of service, milord," Dearka pretended to bow and when Kira shot him a strange look, he simply laughed. "Don't mind me, I've been studying about medieval parties and things just got to me." He leant in inconspicuously and lowered his voice. "I definitely have to applaud on your bravery. I know I provided press credentials, but going all the way from ORB just the three of you is very impressive, even if a little mad."

"Cagalli wants to come," Kira explained, recalling the time when she had had a big row with the other representatives over her going out here to PLANT. "She said she had to see Coordinator's point of view before attempting a communication."

His friend nodded. "I hope it goes well. The chairman really wishes for it."

"He isn't coming tonight, is he?"

"It will be too much for the security. After all, it's New Year's eve," Dearka said and put his empty plate on a tray carried by one of the passing waiters. "I should make another turn in the room. Just don't stare too much," he added with a wink. "That one means a lot of troubles."

Kira already disregarded his friend's warning – he was certain it was well-intended, but still – on the next second. Cagalli was smiling as she followed every step of her partner's able lead. Sometimes they would speak to each other and laugh, so unreservedly that Kira felt a fleeting stab of jealousy although he wasn't sure to whom it was directed. This wouldn't be the first time he felt this kind of hostility toward a man who supposedly caught his sister's interest. It was the other idea that sounded positively crazy.

He continued to watch the two in silence, wondering idly if his twin had asked the key question yet. That was, until he felt someone watching him.

Kira frowned. From past experiences, every time this feeling came to plague him, something unpleasant would always follow soon after. But he decided not to take action just yet. It would not be wise to cause commotion at a friend's party, in PLANT no less.

And sometimes, it was subtlety which proved to be the best aid.

He moved away from the table, giving no impression that he was aware of the observation, and tried to get closer to his observer. Just when he was about to turn around, a voice called to him and he found a pale woman in blue dress smiling at him. He politely declined the dance offer, saying that he was searching for his sister, and glanced to his left now that he was facing the right direction. It was one of the guests, a young man with black hair and – after a second glance – startling red eyes.

Kira was puzzled. He was sure that the man wasn't watching him because he was attractive or something along that line. If anything, he looked suspicious, as if Kira's presence there was disagreeable. He could run a few scenarios in his head as to why someone would find him suspicious, but they generally meant the same thing. That man recognized him. Which meant that Cagalli was at risk. Which meant that they had to get out of there fast.

It was why it surprised him to see his twin and her blue-haired dance partner approaching the man. From his place, Kira could hear the object of his earlier fascination opening a conversation.

"This is my friend, Shinn," he introduced, apparently having no scruple at all to give away people's names at a masquerade, "and this beautiful lady has not given her name yet."

"It's a pleasure meeting you," the other man said almost grudgingly.

"The pleasure is all mine," Cagalli replied with ease and at that moment, her eyes caught Kira's. A wicked grin made its way to her face – even with that mask, Kira just could tell – and she added, "It's Kira, by the way. My name, I mean."

Her two companies had vastly different reactions. The blue-haired man looked amused while his friend scowled even deeper. "Kira? Any relation to the legendary general of ORB?" the former asked, obviously thinking that the name was a false one worn in the spirit of the masquerade.

"No, I'm just a fan," she said with a mischievous smile, adding a slight shade of red to her brother's face. "I heard he believed in equity between Coordinators and Naturals. Isn't it an admirable notion?"

The young man – Shinn – snorted and his friend threw him a warning glare before looking back at Cagalli. "Well, Lady Kira, if you don't mind, will you persuade this introverted friend of mine to a dance? He has his back glued to the wall throughout the night because asking a lady to a dance is much too terrifying for him."

The black-haired man spluttered in indignation but Cagalli, who seemed only too eager to make him pay for his rudeness, immediately agreed. After she curtsied however, he had no choice but to submit and they left for the next dance, looking so determined not to lose to each other that Kira couldn't help a small grin.

At least until the blue-haired man turned and looked at him. There was hardly surprise at all in that smile and Kira felt his whole body stiffening as the other started to make his way toward him. The only thing he could think about was the way his name had been uttered – smooth, gentle, with that deep, rich voice.

_Lady Kira._

For the first time that night, Kira was grateful that he had to wear a mask. He would never hear the end of it if Cagalli saw him blushing in front of a perfect stranger.

"I hope it doesn't look like I'm taking advantage of your sister," the blue-haired man said once he was close enough, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort.

"No, it's fine," Kira murmured. His throat suddenly felt dry. The other man nodded cordially and returned his gaze toward Cagalli and her new dance partner.

"A very extraordinary young woman," he remarked slowly. "She has... quite unusual opinions."

Kira realized at once what the 'unusual opinions' were. If Cagalli was staying true to her methods, they must have talked about the war and conflicts between Natural and Coordinator during their dance. He appraised the man next to him for a moment and then decided to test the ground.

"They may be dangerous during times like these," he said quietly, playing the role of a concerned brother.

His companion's shrug was nonchalant. "Maybe, but they are necessary. I'm relieved that I am not the only one who possesses those opinions. The war has been going on for too long, don't you think?"

At this, Kira could not agree more. "Yes, there have been too many casualties."

The other man looked at him and for the first time Kira noticed that his eyes are the intense colour of emerald green, a very striking compliment to his dark blue hair. More than anyone else in the room, he looked like a painting from the seventeenth century, the ORB general thought to himself. A painting which came to life. Add all those aristocratic qualities with the way he carried himself, all finesse and sang-froid, and here he got this beautiful prince, the dream of every sleeping beauty and snow white.

And what the hell was he thinking about?

"Do you want to dance?" the man suddenly asked, lips curling into a small smile, and Kira found himself stumbling once or twice in the process of making sense of the question.

"Me?" he finally managed to croak out after the offer sank in.

"We can dance outside, there's a hall," the other man gestured with a slight tilting of his head but didn't wait for an answer. He turned around and steered himself through the sparse crowd gathering at the side of the room, leaving Kira who still stood frozen to his spot. He would stay that way for many more minutes if something, curiosity perhaps, did not tug him to follow.

It was nothing, he told himself as his feet gingerly made their tread, eyes never leaving his new acquaintance's dark blue hair. He was only asked for a dance. Surely there was no harm to that.

Just a dance.

The 'hall' was a long dark passage which connected many doors leading to the ballroom, he realized as he closed the door behind them, leaving only an inch or so to let the music drift in. It was a slow ballad, nothing like the vivacious Strauss before, and it was probably the reason why Kira felt his heart pounding madly in his chest when his companion turned around and beckoned him to come closer.

His steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he lessened the distance between them. There was a smile on the other man's lips, quiet, unperturbed in the shadowy darkness. A hand gently clasped his when they were close enough and another slipped past his shoulder and rested behind his neck, the warmth making him shiver inside.

"You're the lead," his dance partner said, sounding much too relaxed to Kira's liking, "so lead on."

It began awkwardly at first, feet stumbling here, colliding there and generally ignoring the cadence of the music. He couldn't seem to find the right pace and his partner's proximity wasn't helping. After a few more failed attempts, the blue-haired man chuckled and Kira realized that he was in the middle of fighting one of his own. They halted for a moment after a little tripping almost succeeded to bring both of them down to the floor, eyes on each other, and broke into a laugh.

"Okay, I'll give you one more chance," his partner decided, still sporting a wide grin on his face, "and if you still cannot have me under control, I'll take the lead."

Kira smirked. "Watch me."

He pulled the other man's body closer, relishing the surprise which flashed across a pair of deep green eyes, and started another sequence. This time, he managed to pull it flawlessly, right down to the exact tempo. His companion looked pleased with this new development and let himself be guided through streams of tunes, the little smile still adorning his lips.

They exchanged no word for the longest time, only savoring the silence and their newfound harmony. Kira found himself looking at his dance partner with something close to rapture as their feet continued to trail after the music. It felt surreal, this stranger with green eyes in his arms, the dulcet melody, the dark hallway, everything. He would believe that he was only dreaming if it wasn't for the close warmth, the faint whiff of perfume as those lips hovered close to his own.

When the hand on his nape drew him closer, Kira closed his eyes and felt a shudder coursing through ever fiber in his body as warm lips touched his in the gentlest manner. They pulled back after only a second but now it was him who pursued them, hand climbing to the back of the other man's head to feel more of that tantalizing warmth, only to find himself ensnared and drowned in it once he got it back.

Kira buried his fingers in soft blue tresses, enjoying the way they slipped and caught between his digits, as his partner traced little feather touches up and down his nape. Their kiss was slow, like they were going along with the flowing andante in the background, and for a long moment, he was content to have it stay that way. It was when his partner pushed his back flat to the wall that little bundles of control started to slip. A hot slick tongue caressed his lower lip, asking for entrance, and Kira granted the permission only too willingly. His own tongue was not less eager to respond to the invasion and he challenged the other man to an entirely different dance. The soft mouth against him twisted into a smile and Kira seized the chance to return the plundering, pleased when his companion stifled a moan at the back of his throat.

He pressed their bodies even closer as a new rhythm, fervent, more desperate, took over. His head started to feel light and heady and the door, still slightly ajar, admitted a low murmur of chatters and light strings of violin. However, at this moment Kira was unable to care if someone were to walk in and find them engaged in this less than appropriate behaviour. It wasn't as if he was snogging the Chairman of PLANT anyway.

But then his lightheadedness became more and more evident and he realized that it was lack of air speaking. What left of his senses urged him to breathe but his entire motor system seemed to have gone deaf in the face of – oh god, that tongue...

He began to really, really believe that there were things more important than breathing and–

Kira pulled back almost violently, like he had to go against his very being to just do that, which in fact was exactly what happened. Arms still locked around his partner's body, he rested his head against the wall behind him, looking straight into a pair of hazed green eyes as both of them tried to regain their breath. A smile arched the other man's mouth and he leant in, lips tracing up the curve of Kira's jaw.

"That was unexpected," a sultry voice purred just below his ear, stirring up what little desire still dormant in his veins, "but nice."

"I agree," he breathed out and caught the blue-haired man's lips into another kiss. Everything faded into a heated battle, tongues clashing, breath mingling, hands gripping. Nothing mattered but this person – this _perfect stranger_ – in his arms and the contact, the intensity. Kira felt like he was burning and it didn't help that his companion's body was squashing him to the wall, almost desperate for more warmth. The hand on the back of his head was no longer gentle, but he didn't care. When a knee slipped between his legs, making a contact with the pooling heat there, he outright moaned into the other man's mouth.

It was the intensity, the raw need in his own voice that jerked him out from the kiss. He stared, almost afraid, at his partner's eyes and recognized the same want mirrored in them. At least it was mutual, but then...

Then what?

An alien gleam flickered in those emerald eyes and their owner leant even closer. "There are bedrooms upstairs," he whispered, voice thick with desire, lips hovering just in front of his own – tempting, taunting.

_Offering._

Kira couldn't think. He only nodded, the most he could do with his numbing muscles.

The blue-haired man shot him a little smile and Kira almost groaned when the warmth of his partner's body left him. He managed to get a hold of himself just in time and concentrated on the feeling of those fingers loosely winding with his own as they walked down the dark passage. The journey felt long, the silence heavy, and Kira had to repeatedly fend off the urge to grab the other man and shove him to the wall and just get done with it.

Everything felt unreal. His feet were unstable as they climbed the second flight of stairs, right into another hallway. Voices and music from the party sounded far up here, like separated by layers of thick veils. There were doors at both sides of the wall and the hand that had been holding his tightened slightly when they slipped into the second room on the right. It was dark, the only light streaming in from a large window at the far side of the room, but it was also about as far an observation as Kira could make because he was suddenly yanked forward. Again his body made a contact with the other man and he found himself looking into those silver-rimmed eyes.

"Are you sure?" The question was almost flat but carried an underlying note of anxiety he would not miss even if he wanted to. Kira allowed himself a little relief, thinking that he was probably not the only one nervous about this bizarre affair.

"If you are," he said, sounding calm despite himself.

It was not quite a smile on the other's lips, but it could be. Without warning, a hand climbed to his neck and pulled his cravat off. His cape and doublet followed next and they were left to pool on lavishly-carpeted floor as his blue-haired partner started to work on his dress shirt. Kira watched all these in a sort of daze, vaguely noticing how pale the other man's skin was in contrast to his dark hair, but overall couldn't bring himself to do something more productive. The next thing he knew, he was being kissed again, the warmth sweet, intoxicating, and he once more fell under the spell.

It felt almost natural that it was frightening.

Soon the shirt too joined its other associates on the floor. The feeling of his chest brushing against the soft fabric of his partner's attire and those fingers tracing all sorts of unidentifiable patterns on his exposed skin made him sigh appreciatively but also aware of one painfully glaring problem. He tugged at the other man's clothing, enjoying the feeling when he yielded and let Kira to undress him as their tongues continued to tackle and shove each other.

Until it was proven that not even the Ultimate Coordinator could handle multitasking when one of them involved a close-to-dysfunctional brain as a result to a very hot and thorough making out. He broke the kiss, very much annoyed at the whole situation, and attacked the responsible outfit with vehemence that brought a grin to his partner's face.

"Leave that to me," he said, sounding much too amused that Kira could not help but to kiss him again. He felt lightheaded and there was a voice in his head, telling him sternly that this was madness – this whole folly, with a stranger no less – but it sounded faint, distant. Maybe it was all the wine he had been drinking earlier, he reasoned to himself, trying to ignore the dry voice again, now pointing out that his tolerance to alcohol extended far, far beyond this.

The rest simply blurred when his hands touched warm skin. They wandered on their own, leaving his mind a blank paper crumpled and torched with crushing want. There were only him, this stranger, and his desperation. Everything else felt far, unimportant.

An impatient sound escaped the other man's throat and an arm was hooked around his waist, pulling him forward. It was pure instinct that made Kira disentangle his arms from the other's body and prevented himself from falling on top of him just in time. He stared, speechless, at the man beneath him. He hadn't even realized that there was a bed in the room.

His blue-haired partner stared back at him, looking amused. "Nice reflex."

Kira opened his mouth but any word just died at the edge of his tongue as he hovered above the other man. Light pouring in from the window lit the room in a soft, dim glow and the view presented in front of him completely eliminated every theory as to why he shouldn't take this man here and now. They seemed absurd now, downright irrational and not to mention, stupid.

It was then when he realized that his knee was making contact with naked thighs. His difficulty to breathe increased tenfold as his gaze roamed lower and cheerfully informed him that he was the only one still–

"Get these off," the other man demanded, tugging at his waistband. The slight frustration in his voice, however, made Kira grin.

"Impatient," he chided and surprised himself at how affectionate it sounded.

"You have no idea," was the purred reply, coyness nothing but flaunted, and Kira was forced to agree when the narrow hips ground up to meet his again. He bit back a moan but only succeeded to modify it into a strangled whimper, a sound that made his companion chuckle. Kira gave him a dark look and received a knowing smirk in return.

"Then help me take them off," he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically rough and heavy. His blue-haired partner willingly obeyed and made a quick work with his belt and zipper as he bent down, tasting the first kiss upon that pale, inviting neck. He sucked the same spot slowly and a lascivious sigh escaped the other man's throat, making him grip the coverlet tightly. It shouldn't affect him this much. Nothing had ever affected him this much.

The first full contact of skin with skin made him gasp and he let the other man claim his lips once more, loving the touch of desperation in that act. His eyes slid closed and he growled at the onslaught of sensations sweeping all over him – a mouth, hot, demanding, pressed against his own, and then those fingers in his hair, raking, stroking while the rest were fast moving across his back and lower and there were burning skin against his everywhere. He pushed down and groaned out loud when the friction sent jolts of delicious waves right to the tip of his fingers, only half aware of a similar sound coming from his partner.

The touches and caresses became more insistent. A long, slender leg moved to pin one of his down, creating more frictions that almost blinded him with pleasure. They grazed, scrapped, rubbed each other until Kira thought that he would burst in this heat. His entire body was shaking with need. He knew he could only hold out for so long and the end had never felt this near.

But it was not until the other man slipped something into his hand and a tongue darted out to trace his earlobe in an agonizing slowness, the softest whisper of 'please' caressing his ear, that Kira finally lost all sense of inhibition. Those beautiful emerald eyes, dark with hunger, were looking at him and the parted legs were as much an invitation as it was a plea that he had to struggle against the wave of desire threatening to overcome him.

His hands were a little shaky when he unscrewed the small tube, but he wanted it. They wanted it. The other man's eyes were shut when he pressed in and a small hiss escaped his throat. Kira held onto the pale thighs desperately, gritting his teeth to fight down the urge to just thrust in blindly. He almost forgot how this felt. Or maybe it was just him, captivated by this blue-haired stranger who appeared out of nowhere and had him under his spell.

That would explain his inability to resist, yes.

Their pace wasn't slow, but it wasn't hurried either. Kira watched as his partner's eyes glazed over with pleasure, thickly mixed with pain, expected though it was, and dark blue tresses, stark against the pastel coverlet, fluttered with each thrust he made into the body beneath him. He listened to the hardly muted gasps that fell out from a pair of lips he madly wanted to kiss but could not, in fear that he would ruin this beautiful image. Beautiful. Really beautiful. At this moment, Kira would gladly sell his soul to have a look of the face under that mask.

The faint sound of music from downstairs faded into a mishmash of ragged breaths and small pants. He wanted it to last forever but some other parts of his body were having the completely opposite thought. The other man didn't seem to fare any better either, his breathing urgent and erratic, and he started to have trouble keeping the moans at bay. He gripped the side of Kira's arms tightly, his mouth falling open to a voiceless plea, and Kira could only comply.

He picked up the pace, making sure that he hit that spot which made his partner's body tremble in pure in ecstasy each time. The small, unintelligible sounds the other man was making burned the last morsels of Kira's patience and his motions became desperate, lost in the blinding sensation of their joining.

A short gasp of breath, sharper than the rest, was the prelude and those taut muscles beneath his fingers convulsed. There were nails digging into his arms and the blue-haired head was thrown back even deeper into the mattress as Kira felt himself coming almost violently inside the other man, a feral sound torn from his throat. The moment lasted for what felt like a fleeting eternity, endless but brief, sweet but bitter.

They gasped audibly for breath as the heat cooled down. Kira opened his eyes and stared into the depth of green, noticing the silver highlight in them and an entirely something else. Satisfaction maybe, but he liked to think that it was slightly more, something he could keep and treasure. He pulled himself out of the other man and bent down, slowly tasting the velvety softness of warm, lazy lips as hand clasped the back of his head gently.

"Tell me your name," he whispered, hope, longing, excitement battling inside him.

The hand stopped stroking his hair and a guarded note entered the other man's voice. "Why?"

"I want to know."

The same hand fell to his face and touched the side of his mask. "Then what is the point of this?"

Recognizing evasion when he saw one, Kira sighed, ignoring the slight pang in his chest. That was not entirely unexpected, but still. "You want anonymity," he stated, "and that usually means you are someone important."

An easy smile curved the other's lips. "I just like being mysterious. Isn't it what turns you on?"

Despite everything, Kira just had to grin at that. "I certainly cannot deny that without being a hypocrite," he admitted and laughed when a snort came from his companion.

Silence once more fell, allowing him to distinguish the faraway sound of music from the ballroom, as he played idly with dark blue locks. He felt an odd sense of contentment, gazing into those green eyes, listening to the other man's breathing that slowly and surely returned to its quiet and steady pace. It almost felt like he existed only for this moment, to meet this person, and everything beyond them simply didn't exist.

_Almost._

He took a deep breath and decided for a last shot. There was no harm in trying, even if it was only to get his hope crushed and doomed to the seventh hell, which was not only probable but also very likely in this case.

"Can I see you again?"

The blue-haired man suddenly chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "You're smitten with me, aren't you?" he teased, sounding much too comfortable with the idea than Kira would have preferred.

"I like to keep as many friends as possible," he answered neutrally.

"You always do this every time you make a new friend?" his partner asked again and there was a hand trailing down his waist, and then hips.

Kira raised his eyebrows and caught the wayward hand to have it settle on his cheek. "If I admit that you're special, will I get your number? And stop answering me with a question."

"So you've noticed," was the modest reply but there was little amusement in it. The blue-haired man seemed to pick up the solemn note in his voice and now was regarding him quietly. Kira waited, his hand still clasping the one on his cheek, and tried hard not to think about any depressing scenario. It was strange, his restlessness, his reluctance to sever the delicate silver thread and end this midwinter night dream. One didn't normally feel like this in a one-night stand and it was exactly what this whole thing was supposed to be. A one-night stand.

Again, it might be the wine, although Kira realized that it was about time for him to admit that he was perfectly sober, even if a little disoriented.

Just when he thought that he couldn't take it anymore, the heavy silence was broken by a commotion erupting downstairs. They blinked at each other and then realized what the noise was about.

"It's countdown already," the other man said, sounding as surprised as himself.

Kira could only nod. After the information had sunk in, however, he felt a flash of irritation toward all the people downstairs who were screaming that 'Ten! Nine! Eight!' at the top of their lungs. And then he remembered he had a flight back to ORB in one-and-a-half hour and Cagalli must be looking for him.

_That's it then._

"I think we should join everyone downstairs," he said, trying to sound as normal as possible, and rose from the bed, painfully aware of those eyes following his every movement. The other man might want to apologize, but Kira didn't think that any of them needed it. Nobody was at fault. This was a one-night stand, which meant that it should end–

"55-29101805."

He spun around so fast that he fell on top of the blue-haired man again. The voices from downstairs still continued their howling with such consistency that Kira tuned them out completely and concentrated on staring at his current company.

"What?" he whispered weakly.

"My private number," the other man said, so calm that it almost sounded smug – or maybe it was those laughing eyes. "Do you want me to repeat that?"

Already swept away by the next wave of giddiness, Kira could only nod. The reiteration was slow, deliberate, and each uttered number brought his lips a little closer to his blue-haired partner's, guided by a hand on his nape. The last, a breathless five, was practically whispered into his mouth and once more everything faded into the realm of unimportance as he focused his complete attention to that passionate mouth which made his head spin madly and his limbs turn into boneless, jellyfish-like substances

It might be the wine. It might be this beautiful stranger. It might be his own silliness. Whatever it was, Kira could already feel himself falling deeper and deeper.

  
_**End Chapter 2  
** _


	3. Chapter 3

  
"Chairman Zala, this problem requires your complete and undivided attention and I do hope for the sake of every living Coordinator that I have it right now."

Athrun looked at the young white-haired council member from Martius crossly. They had been debating about this for what seemed like hours and his office had never felt so suffocating. Exasperation and annoyance started to get the better of him and he knew that they were leaking into his voice as he replied, "You do, Councilman. As a matter of fact, I can hardly look elsewhere because I am completely in awe of you and your astonishing stubbornness to show the world how bigoted you actually are."

Everyone in the vicinity flinched. Councilman Jule's face turned to an alarming shade of red but he said nothing. A second later, the thought 'oh shit' entered Athrun's mind.

He brought a hand to his temple and suppressed a sigh, inwardly scolding himself for submitting to blind rage. That was just perfect. His intention was to make Yzak and Lacus – the head of National Defense Committee and Diplomatic Committee respectively – to agree with his plan. Gods knew that he had just blown his chance completely.

"I'm sorry," he said heavily, looking straight at his friend's cold blue eyes, "that was incredibly uncalled-for."

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Lacus was looking back and forth between him and Yzak, and Dearka had not averted his gaze from a suspiciously uninteresting spot on the desk that had had his complete attention since the argument had begun. Athrun realized that it was up to him to break the ice and start over again.

Not that it wasn't his fault to begin with.

"Look," he tried again after rearranging his voice back to its normal altitude, "I know this idea is unpopular and you have come up with more than a few good points to explain to me why. But in the end, we need this, Yzak. You are the chairman of the National Defense Committee. I am certain you know how stupid it is for us to continue fighting mindlessly and send our people to die on a battlefield we no longer know why exists."

"That doesn't change the fact that this may be no more than a trap," Yzak said stiffly.

"True," Athrun said with a nod, "but six years, Yzak, six years this war has lasted and we are not going anywhere at this rate. And now one country on Earth, one neutral country, one that does not simply bow to our bidding because they are afraid of what we are, one that has its own ideals to hold up for, has initiated an attempt of diplomacy. This is not a fraud. This is a real opportunity that may not come to us twice."

The white-haired man narrowed his eyes. "And how can you be sure of that? As far as I know, this is something that walks in through the backdoor."

"It is, but that's only because everything that comes through the formal diplomatic course has a big possibility ending up at the front page of next morning's newspaper," Athrun explained and belatedly noticed that his voice had risen again. Biting his lips, he looked away and settled on looking apologetically at the only woman in the room. "No offense, Lacus, but we cannot expect an emissary from ORB to come here to PLANT and doesn't make it to the headline news."

The chairwoman of the Diplomatic Committee nodded from her seat. "I agree with you, Chairman," she replied calmly, "but I also have to admit that Yzak has brought up a perfectly valid point. As much as I want to trust ORB, how do we know that this offer is not a trap to lure us in?"

"For that I'm afraid we have to rely completely on our judgment," he answered, and when Yzak looked like he was about to raise another protest, Athrun held up a hand. "I think I'll let Dearka explain once more about this, seeing that the message came through him."

Every eye turned toward the dark-skinned ZAFT officer. Dearka, looking mightily uncomfortable, cleared his throat and carried out the task set upon him bravely.

"As you have undoubtedly known, this is the second message. The first arrived about two weeks ago and was more of a letter of introduction than anything. It did explain why they were initiating this contact–"

"What we need to know, Commander Elsman," Yzak interrupted him, his voice sharp, "is how these so-called messages could arrive in your hand. Unless you plan to tell us that they simply appeared in your mailbox one morning of course."

Dearka's face acquired a slightly darker colour that suspiciously looked like a blush from the chairman's point of view. "This is going to sound ridiculous," he muttered.

"By all means, Commander, I'm fully prepared to laugh," the white-haired man said sarcastically. Athrun frowned at this. Yzak was being unnecessarily snappish – that was to say, more than usual – but he could guess pretty well where it came from. After all, Dearka had almost destroyed his engagement party and it was obvious that they had not parted in the best terms.

But neither of them was at fault. This was one of those things that just happened. They had fallen in love, and no matter how screwed it had been at the beginning, it had been a deep, passionate love. But then something had happened. They had grown up, and in this era when living as a Coordinator meant being hated by every Natural, their choices were few. Yzak clearly loved his mother too much to disappoint her by admitting that he was in relationship with another man when she had come up with the engagement plan which, as many had suspected, only had the purpose to elevate his status. No one was happy with this, but no one could do anything about it. They were all preys and victims to order and appearance, the most important things if they wanted to survive in politics. A politician, no matter how good he or she was, would only end up at the back burner if involved in a scandal.

 _Right_ , Athrun almost laughed at himself. He did not exactly had the right to say that, did he, looking at what he had been doing with Dearka and that masked man in the party. He still shivered when he remembered that night. It had been very stupid of him. If the man had not been an innocent stranger, he could have easily ended up dead or worse. Shinn had been so angry with him after the party for disappearing on him like that. _You're the damn Chairman of PLANT_ , he had roared when they had returned to the car, on the way back to the residence, and Athrun really felt that he had deserved every drop of fury

The problem was, he did not regret it – not completely at least. Neither did he regret anything that had followed, including a second tryst not so long ago in a dark hotel room and numerous, often sensuous phone calls. That the man had become an obsession to him was an understatement. If it was not for the utter nonsensicality of the entire matter, Athrun would have declared that he was falling in love.

_Love._ _Ha._

The sound of Dearka clearing his throat once more brought him back to the present. Athrun resisted a strong urge to hit himself as his dark-skinned friend threw him a curious look. What was he thinking, in the middle of a meeting like this?

"Do continue, Commander," he said, grateful that at least his voice betrayed none of the awkwardness he felt.

The other man nodded uncertainly and began again, "It's true that the messages came through me. I have a friend in ORB. A few friends actually, and one of them is the country's press secretary. I assume you all know Miriallia Haww."

"Your Natural ex-girlfriend," Yzak sneered, still with the same sharp tone of voice. This returned the frown to Athrun's face and brought a twitch to Dearka's brow. The temperature in the room suddenly made a drastic climb to a veritably dangerous zone.

"I met her during the war," Dearka went on, pointedly ignoring the white-haired man's comment, "along with a few others when I was captured by ORB. Our friendship lasts until now. It was based on that trust that she contacted me, first by phone, and after we agreed to listen to what she had to say, she delivered the first message."

"Are you saying that Miss Haww came to PLANT?" Lacus asked, surprised.

"No, her face is too recognizable for the press secretary of ORB," Dearka said. "There was a messenger who brought the message and delivered our answer back to ORB. However, for our own safety, I cannot reveal the identity of this liaison officer."

Everyone was silent for a long moment and although Yzak looked absolutely scandalized, he kept his mouth shut. Athrun waited, slightly surprised at the mild reaction Dearka's declaration was getting. His own reaction had been very different and he and Dearka had gone into a big row which had almost resulted in him firing the other man. Luckily, he had forced himself to see the truth in his friend's words and finally agreed. It might not be the best decision but for the moment, he wanted to trust Dearka.

In the end, it was Lacus who broke the silence with another question. "Do you trust this person, Commander Elsman?"

"With my life, Councilwoman Clyne, I can assure you."

For the first time since the beginning of meeting, Lacus let a little smile to slip onto her face. "Well then, I guess I have no other reason to object," she said and turned toward her colleague. "Yzak?"

The councilman, however, did not seem to share her opinion and was still glaring at Athrun. "I suppose I am to understand that the first message was answered without consulting me, the head of National Defense," he said flatly.

Athrun had to resist an urge to sigh. "I can assure you that I meant no offense by not consulting you first. It was a sounding-out stage. I wasn't prepared to decide anything at that point."

If anything, the scowl on Yzak's face only deepened after the reply. "How was it possible that this person got into PLANT?" he asked again.

"Press privileges. I have given my authorization in this matter and Dearka will see to the rest."

"It seems that we are depending an awful lot to our dear commander," the other man remarked with a low voice after throwing a baleful glare to the man in question.

Athrun raised his brow in amazement. The discussion undoubtedly had reached a point he had not anticipated before and it had every possibility of growing worse if the dark look on Dearka's face was anything to go by. The two men were now glaring at each other and ignoring everyone else in the room.

"Yzak, are you saying that we cannot trust Dearka?"

The white-haired man did not answer and only continued to glare. Athrun felt his frustration mounting. There was something he didn't quite understand going on here and whatever it was, it ran deeper than he had thought. Yzak could be extremely uncooperative at times, but he usually maintained a certain standard to himself not to let anything personal get in his way at work. Why this turned out to be different was beyond Athrun at the moment.

But he had to do something about it. He rose from his seat and fixed both of his friends a firm look.

"You two," he said, using his ultimate chairman tone, "find a room outside now and sort this out. I don't care how you do it. You can kiss and make up or get down to each other throat because it's very obvious that the message and my decision are _not_ the problem here. But I expect two cool, unclouded heads to come back to this office, is that understood?"

Yzak looked like he was about to tell him to shut up but Dearka had already dragged him out before he could produce anything coherent. Athrun watched the door closing behind them and sank back to his seat, feeling incredibly tired.

"I cannot believe this," he muttered in exasperation and looked at Lacus. The pink-haired woman threw him a sympathetic smile, solemn though it looked with the graveness in her eyes.

"If there is someone who can put some sense into Yzak's head, it will be Dearka," she said soothingly.

"I don't know," Athrun sighed, glancing at the door. "It's way beyond the usual level if you ask me. Honestly I don't really mind if this will lead to their making-up, but can't they choose a better time? At least when we are not discussing about a chance for peace?"

"They were avoiding each other like a plague in the past year," Lacus said matter-of-factly. "This is the first time they get together in the same room for more than two minutes and since it's your order, they don't have much choice, do they?"

He frowned. "They are grown-up men who know where their duties lie. There should be priorities."

"Athrun, it's like a time bomb," she explained, her voice becoming tense. "Their avoiding each other doesn't solve the problem. It worsens it, especially in Yzak's case because there are tons of guilt and self-reproach involved. Dearka isn't doing any better either because he feels that he is the victim here." She sighed and looked down at her clasped hands. "We should have done something about it. Letting them to deal with it on their own is obviously a mistake."

And his involvement must have worsened the situation. Athrun tried to ignore the breeding guilt inside him but discovered that he could not. The truth was as plain as day. He was Dearka's escape, the one who basically encouraged his friend to turn a blind eye on the real problem. What they had been doing might seem harmless – both parties only seeking for physical gratification with nothing attached – but he hadn't thought of what could happen to his friend in the end.

Dearka was destroying himself and he let him.

Suddenly Athrun had an impulse to bang his head on the desk. Fortunately, Lacus intervened before he could follow said impulse and make himself look like an idiot. Which was exactly how he felt about himself at the moment. He just didn't think it was wise to share this information to anyone else, especially when he was about to make this important decision.

"Do you think they can sort it out?" she asked him quietly.

"Honestly? No. But hopefully yes."

They looked at each other for a long time and then burst into inappropriate fits of giggles. Athrun did not know why he did it. There was nothing funny, really, and to laugh at their quarrelling friends was certainly out of question. It could be the irony though, he thought to himself, or the stress. Stress could make people did the most bizarre things, especially in a situation like this. It was downright mind-blowing to think that the lives of so many might depend on something as personal as lover's quarrel.

Lacus must be thinking along the same line because she seemed to encounter more than a few difficulties to get her giggling under control. Definitely the stress, Athrun decided as the councilwoman looked at him again, shaking her head.

"This is so messed up, do you know that?"

Athrun raised his eyebrows, still grinning. "I was sitting here throughout the whole ordeal in case you didn't notice."

"The two of you almost killed each other during the argument," she pointed out, sounding amused, "and you doubt if I noticed your daunting presence, Chairman Zala? I can assure you that you were the most noticeable person in the room."

"Thank you for reminding me that you did nothing to help when I needed your support the most," he said dryly.

Her responding smile was sweet and deceptively modest. "Anytime, Sir."

Athrun rolled his eyes but said nothing. It was not as if he seriously blamed her. Yzak was downright scary when he was angry and Athrun had to admit that he himself could not always keep a firm grip on his emotions – although lately, these little slips had started to occur in alarming consistency. Other than that, he was the chairman of PLANT Supreme Council, as much as he hated to admit it sometimes. Even his closest friends had to maintain a degree of politeness when speaking to him, no matter how close they were. If he had just been any other man, undoubtedly Yzak would have decorated his face with more than a few bruises after what he had said earlier.

Leaning back to his high-backed chair, Athrun closed his eyes. He had never thought that it would have been easy when he had accepted the nomination, but as he quickly had discovered later, to be the leader of PLANT was a role far harder to fulfill than any his worst nightmares had conjured. He had power, authority to the highest degree, but there were so many limitations and rules to abide by, so many things to consider that his so-called power didn't feel like power anymore. He was just there to consider the options, decide, watch, and then curse himself when his decision turned out to be wrong. And being the chairman of the Supreme Council during this time of endless conflicts, one wrong turn in any matter might as well mean that he had sent a quarter of his troops – the people he was supposed to lead and protect – to total annihilation.

The burden was immense, excruciating. Anyone who said otherwise was welcome to try and see for themselves. He had tried to do anything in – and out – his power to stop the war, but he was facing this ugly, ferocious monster called hatred. The war had been going on for so long, its victims countless, everywhere. Everyone left behind by their loved one was both angry and vengeful, and dealing with them was difficult because Athrun realized that he was one of them. He had lost both of his parents to the war and he would be lying if he said that there was no hatred left in his heart.

Then why? Why did he want a further contact now? The only answer was probably because he wanted peace more than revenge. He was tired with all of these fighting and people dying only because they were either Coordinator or Natural. No matter how he tried to look at it, it was a stupid reason to die. No one could change what he or she had been born as. Many might feel that the existence of Coordinators was a mistake, but it had happened, so _let's move on, shall we?_

It was true that since he had ascended to power, the war had been toned down into a cold, turbulent lull, sometimes a minor skirmish here and there. But it did not mean that his work was done. The temporary truce was fragile and could be easily broken by the slightest nudge to the right direction. People still hated each other. Most of them would be only too delighted to see their 'enemy' dying, as had been proven by the sudden surge of people eager to enlist to ZAFT in the past few years. His attempt to create a ceasefire had also been accused as the result to a weak leadership. They wanted war. They wanted revenge.

Sometimes Athrun wondered why these all had to happen during his reign, in his lifetime. It might be pointless to think about it, but sometimes he dreamt about a world without conflict, the sea, the beautiful Earth he had only visited during his military missions, most of them exceedingly life-threatening that he could not possibly enjoy anything.

And of course, people who listened to him for once instead of questioning his every doing. But this was plainly out of question during these times, he knew.

Another reason why he hated being the chairman was the loss of companionship. Now he understood why more than several had challenged his nomination only because he had yet to marry. This was the reason, this complete solitude. He might have close friends, but every one of them, without exception, had to take one step back once he had taken his title. Suddenly there was a line between them. He was alone inside the circle because the only people who could breach that line had died.

Lacus was one of the few who had stayed on the border. She still called him by his name sometimes, still reproached him when she saw that he was doing something wrong, still casually exchanged banters with him now and then, and yet never made that last step and moved into the circle. He once had had the chance to have her inside the circle. They had been engaged, a political affair arranged carefully by their parents. Everybody thought that he had gone crazy when he had broken off the advantageous engagement. Lacus had everything to be the perfect wife of the Chairman of PLANT. Status, wealth, intellect, power, fame – she had them all.

But they did not love each other, not in the way that could bind them forever until death came and parted them. And more than anything else, she did not deserve that treatment, his thinking of her only as a tool to achieve more power. Lacus meant far, far more than that for him. To consider her any less was an insult, not only to her but also to him.

Well, that and the fact that he had never really taken any interest to his opposite sex. He loved her, really, but marriage entailed a lot more than just love did and Athrun didn't think that he was ready for any of it just yet. He probably could turn a blind eye at his own preferences, but it would mean that he was not being honest with her, which again was an insult.

Not that she didn't know that part about him already.

"Still, you have to admit that his animosity toward Naturals is not normal," Lacus suddenly broke the silence. Athrun opened his eyes and looked at her, more because of the absence of the earlier amusement in her voice.

"His father was killed in the war," he answered after pondering for a second.

"So was my father," she pointed out, "and your parents in that matter. There must be something else."

"I guess," he mumbled and felt a familiar wave of guilt sweeping inside him. It was useless to ignore it and so he stared straight into her eyes and said, "Or maybe we are the abnormal ones. His father died in a fight against Naturals and because of that, he hates them. Don't you think it makes him the better child?"

There was certain sharpness in her eyes and it was carried through her voice when she said, "Athrun, that is ridiculous."

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No, it isn't," he said, his voice hard. "What has been stopping us from taking revenge, Lacus? We can do that. I'm the chairman of the Supreme Council and you practically have the same extent of power that I do. We can call an open war and order ZAFT to create hell on Earth. What has been stopping us?"

"Decency," she answered, clear-cut and firm. "You don't want anyone to feel like we did back then when we lost our parents. Or am I wrong?"

Athrun was silent for a moment. He had to admit that Lacus was right, as altruistic as it sounded. No one could have any idea how it felt to lose a parent but those who had experienced it. The pain was beyond anything, and the hopelessness – when he had seen Junius Seven exploding in front of his eyes, when the news of his father's death had appeared everywhere in the television – was unbearable. What good was a son who could not protect his parents?

Probably it was what had brought him and Lacus together in the first place too, that sense of mutual understanding. He had held her hand during her father's funeral as mourners expressed their condolences to her one by one and she tried with all her might not to cry. She was the one who had stayed at his side on the night of his father's death, quietly holding him as he told her a lot of nonsense, all to fill the silence. They had begun to support each other and Athrun had been very grateful when their friendship had not ended with the breaking of their engagement.

"No, you're right," he finally said, his voice laced with bitter regret. "The world certainly can do with less grief. I'm sorry, Lacus. I don't know what I was thinking earlier."

She smiled, even if a little sad it seemed. "I know why you said that. It does seem like we have forgotten about our parents, doesn't it?"

"But they wouldn't want the war to go on were they still alive," he said, partly trying to convince himself that it was indeed the case. "Now I can only hope that this thing with ORB will really work."

Lacus leant forward toward the desk and put her hand on his, her blue eyes solemn. "I'm at your side, Athrun," she said quietly, sincerely. "No matter what happens, I will stay at your side."

He squeezed her hand back tightly and whispered, "Thank you."

 

\---

 

Dragging his friend out of the chairman's office, Dearka threw a forced smile to Meyrin who was sitting behind her desk just outside the office. She looked surprised at this sudden walkout and Shinn quickly assumed a suspicious scowl from his standing place behind her. Dearka strode past them without offering any explanation, all the way paying no heed to Yzak's indignant protests until they had reached an empty meeting room and he had slammed the door behind them. He let the thin wrist go and glared at the white-haired man.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" he demanded, suppressed fury roughing the edge of his voice.

"I should be the one asking!" Yzak snarled back, his face flush with both anger and mortification although it was obvious that the former was gaining an upper hand. "Are you out of your mind? What the fuck are you doing?"

"Yzak–"

"You'll destroy PLANT with your stupidity!" he went on heatedly, ignoring the taller man. "Planting this kind of bullshit inside his head? You know how reckless he is!"

"That is not true," Dearka cut him with a glare, "and you know it. Do you honestly think he didn't spend weeks mulling over this? That he just agreed when I first brought this up? He isn't stupid, Yzak. He knows very well what he's talking about here."

"But we never heard of this kind of rubbish! Setting up a contact through you and your ex-girlfriend?"

"She is ORB's press secretary, thank you very much," he said coldly.

If it was possible Yzak's face became even redder. His tone of voice however, left its fiery ground in change for a more rigid environment as he asked accusingly, "What if this is just a trap? What if she is just using you?"

"The only way to find out is to find out, right?"

Yzak glowered at him. "You know perfectly well yourself what will follow. They will want a public announcement. Soon enough, we will be required to go to Earth, and before that, maybe we even have to give them something to smooth the damn way. Military secrets, information, things we don't want our enemy to know. And what if what's waiting for us in the end is not any kind of deal but guns pointed to our head?"

Dearka frowned. "Millie isn't going to do that."

"Oh yes, just defend her," the other man said sarcastically. "Not that we're more important than some stupid Natural girl–"

"Right, you know what?" Dearka cut him, already seeing red angry monsters behind his eyes. "I'm done putting up with your stupid, childish rudeness. This isn't about her being a Natural, is it? This is about her being my ex-girlfriend and you and your larger-than-life ego cannot accept it. Well too bad, Sir, because it will stay that way whether you like it or not!"

Yzak's face was no longer red – it was pale instead, almost white with anger. "Fuck yourself, Dearka," he snarled.

"Sure. Didn't I let you fuck your pretty fiancée already?"

He was expecting that blow, so when Yzak launched a fist toward his face, he was prepared to seize and stop the hand before it could get to its mark. Dearka stared back, unflinching, into furious blue eyes and declared, his voice low and stern, "You can go mad at me anytime you want, I won't mind, but don't you dare blow this up. He's trying to stop the war and he trusts you enough to involve you in this. I won't let you drag him down just because you're fucking jealous. Is that clear enough?"

The white-haired man's entire body was shaking with anger but Dearka really couldn't care less at the moment. "I respect you, Yzak," he stated, still with the same harsh voice. "And he respects you, so just shove it up your ass and behave like the councilman you're supposed to be."

Yzak was still looking fiercely at him when he released his hand, but the heavy silence remained untouched. Dearka began to feel wary. However, he didn't regret what he had said. It was true; Yzak was being unprofessional, rudely so, and what he was interfering might be a chance to make the world a better place. Athrun had been working hard on it and Dearka would be the first person to take anyone who had the slightest intention to get in his way head on.

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

Suddenly it felt like everything had stopped at that moment, even his heartbeat. Yzak's blue eyes were regarding him coldly, an inscrutable look in them. Dearka stared back at him mutely as reality sank in, hammering a sharp, painful fact into his head. For the first time in a very long time, he felt the bitter taste of fear again – real fear.

There were others who knew. And Yzak was one of them no less.

"What?" he finally managed to articulate shakily.

"You're sleeping with him," Yzak stated with a voice too quiet to come from the fiery persona Dearka had come to know for the last seven years. There was almost no malice in it, only iciness covering every inch within his range of hearing.

Once more he found himself unable to say anything in return. It was like a nightmare coming true. Dearka didn't really mind if it was just about him and his admittedly bad, self-indulgent habit. There were talks already about him sleeping with both of the sexes out in the society and it seemed to be a universally accepted fact that he was a born playboy. He never paid any heed to them, not because they were incorrect by any standard, but because he did not care. It was, however, a completely different matter if in the course of his highly unusual and possibly detrimental action, he had to soil the name of an important friend who also happened to be the chairman of the Supreme Council.

He took a deep breath, calming himself, and asked in an indifferent tone, "What does it have to do with our problem at hand?"

Yzak glowered at him. "I'm only asking, jerk."

Dearka frowned, ready to refuse the rough hardly-an-explanation when a theory popped into his head and wiped clean every other thought in his mind. He stared at the other man in disbelief, mouth hanging open, as he tried to digest the idea that slowly became less and less preposterous as seconds ticked by. But it was impossible. There must be something wrong with him for even considering it.

"Wait," he said weakly, hoarsely. "Please don't tell me that this is what it's all about. Because you're jealous at him?"

The white-haired man's gaze became positively murderous. "Do you think I'll stoop that low?" he growled, gaining the dangerous quality back in his voice

"You've made it clear that you don't like Millie only because she was once my girlfriend so it's only natural for me to think–"

"Well, you thought wrong!" he shouted angrily. "You think you're so important that I was trying to get back at him for sleeping with you? Then it's you who has a fucking larger-than-life ego!"

"Yzak–"

"Shut up!" Yzak plainly screamed at him. "Just shut the fuck up!"

Dearka wisely chose to stay silent and still, as if those sharp eloquent blue eyes had nailed him to place. There was something else in the other man's eyes, in his high-pitched voice, something akin to desperation. He didn't let go of his observation when Yzak had looked away and begun to pace angrily in the room, coiling and uncoiling his fists. As infuriated as he was to Yzak, he did not like seeing the man he had loved once upset like this. True, the engagement had hurt him deeply, but Dearka was anything but vindictive. Holding grudges, in his opinion, was something only practiced by those with a weak character because they obviously couldn't bring themselves to get up and fight their way back.

And he had always suspected that Yzak had not been completely honest with him about their relationship. He might have said nothing, but Dearka had been certain that it had meant something to the white-haired man although he again and again had been forced to reconsider every time Shiho Hahnenfuss as much as passed near him. If it had been nothing, Yzak had no reason to avoid him after the engagement. But then again, it could be his wounded pride speaking.

And now there was Athrun to put into the equation. Dearka felt that he had created enough troubles to last him a lifetime.

Yzak suddenly turned to look at him again, his eyes cold. "Fine," he practically spat the word out. "I'll see how this plays out, but if something goes wrong, Commander, I swear you won't pay with your head alone."

With that said, the councilman wheeled around and left, slamming the door behind him. Dearka bit his lips hard and kicked the nearest chair, cursing loudly, before following Yzak back to the chairman's office

 

\---

 

Shinn glanced at the clock on Meyrin's desk for possibly the tenth time in the last two minutes. Like in the nine previous occasions, he found himself getting frustrated at the fact that the shorter hand of the clock was distancing away from the number eight.

It had been two hours since Councilman Jule and Commander Elsman had returned to the office. Except for an order to send in drinks at the beginning of the meeting and the unexpected walkout earlier, so far there had been no interruption. Meyrin had been given an exact instruction by the chairman that he and the others were not to be disturbed and ever since, she had spent the evening with her right ear glued to the phone's receiver, politely but concisely declining every request for an audience with the chairman and offering to reschedule.

Now, four hours into the meeting, Shinn began to feel restless. It was not that he desperately wanted to go home and catch up with a novel he had been reading since last week and had not finished yet. It was not even because he was probably the only one in his age group beside Meyrin who was spending a valuable Saturday night in front of the chairman's office, waiting for a meeting to end. He just wanted to know what was going on inside that room. As far as he was concerned, the meting was unscheduled and unscheduled meetings which went on for a long time with no noticeable end in sight generally meant that something bad had happened and something bad happening usually equaled to more work for him.

At least now he could be glad that he had put himself on duty. If anything should happen, Shinn would hate to let the agent on duty handle the situation before his arrival. The problem was, he could not always be there at every scene even if he wanted to. He was the chairman's Head of Security and most of the times, he merely stayed in the background, planning schedules and organizing his squad. He only took the task of guarding Athrun upon himself when the chairman was out in the open, like in the masquerade several weeks ago.

Shinn felt his irritation quickly resurface at the recollection. Sometimes he really hated his job and the party was a very good example why.

In his younger years, he had never imagined to arrive anywhere near his position right now. After the incident in ORB and the death of his parents and sister, he had come to PLANT with vengeance in his veins, and realized that ZAFT was the only way for him to get what he wanted. Everything had come almost naturally to him – martial arts, gun training, battle strategies, real-time simulations, and later piloting an actual mobile suit. He had graduated from the Academy at the very young age of sixteen, an achievement, as he had been told in the ceremony, surpassed only by Athrun Zala and Nicol Amalfi two years prior, both at the age of fifteen. He had been excited, pleased by his accomplishment, maybe even a little too proud.

And Shinn had not disappointed them – his captain, superiors, friends, crewmates. There might be several anger management complaints filed against him, but it was an incontrovertible fact that he was an ace, admired and respected despite his young age. His position had remained unchallenged for many months until his second year of service, when he had finally met the legendary Athrun Zala.

It was roughly when the infatuation had begun.

He had heard stories about this young man, eighteen by that time, and his unrivaled military accomplishments in ZAFT which had saved PLANT innumerable times. Shinn had just been re-stationed in Commander Jule's ship, and Athrun had gone with them for a particularly difficult mission as an elite pilot. His initial reaction during their first acquaintance had been incredulity. Sure, he had seen the other man often in the news, especially after his father's death, and heard his names mentioned in countless number of reports, but standing in front of him now face to face, Shinn had a serious trouble believing that this was the man who had stood on an even ground with the only pilot who had managed to beat the living crap out of him.

Better to avoid that line of thinking. Even now, it was still a sore topic for Shinn. To think that a damn Natural could defeat him, and not just any Natural at that, but the one and only who stood between him and his vendetta. He would have razed ORB to the ground had it not for that infuriating – but highly skilled – asshole.

And this was Athrun Zala? There must be something wrong with the world. The other man was only a little taller than himself and didn't look all that great. He was also very good-looking, a point which Shinn had quickly learned not to snort at after their first assignment together. Pretty boy or not, this was an experienced soldier whose bad side he didn't want to get at.

The amazement, however, had quickly turned into something else after they had started to talk. Athrun had a knack to say whatever on his mind, although he usually tried to put it as delicately as possible. He disapproved mindless retaliations and unfortunately, Shinn did not appreciate anything said against his own. Challenging his very ideals and worse, his thirst of revenge to ORB, had quickly obtained the blue-haired man a one-way ticket to Shinn's hate list. Throw into the mix his absolute dislike to be less significant than others and here he got himself a very complicated relationship.

Shinn had always had a trouble following orders from a superior whom he deemed unworthy of his respect and while Athrun was light-years away from any definition of incapable, after their little chat, he had started trying to make the older man's life a living hell. This had earned him more than a few punishments and harsh reprimands from Commander Jule, but he stubbornly maintained his level of hostility. What was a man who couldn't stand up to a little challenge anyway. Athrun deserved it for trying to be smart with him in a problem he didn't even understand, that coward who couldn't even take revenge for his parents and shoot his enemy's cockpit.

There was one little problem though. In spite of the obvious dislike he had no trouble displaying toward the other man, Shinn genuinely liked him. And respected him, which was something that most of the times went without saying in Athrun's case. But to be honest with his own feelings was always hard for him, especially when it concerned the person he was determined to hate. And so he shoved them back to the back of his mind and continued his flagrant show of enmity.

Until Athrun finally challenged him into a fight.

First and foremost, it should be noted that Shinn was very good at hand-to-hand combat. No one had been able to defeat him so far, both in the academy and in missions where such skill was required. So, it was understandable that he had felt a little confident, maybe even smug. Knowing that the older pilot was trying to keep their engagement quiet, he deliberately told the other crews, hoping for a little crowd to witness his victory.

Which was something he sorely regretted at the moment he found his hand pinned behind his back and his head to the floor.

" _I'm not trying to criticize you,"_ Athrun said, his voice low enough to only allow Shinn to hear. " _You're seventeen. You're perfectly capable to think for yourself. I just want to say that there are people who will feel like you do if you raze their home and kill their family for your revenge."_

" _I'm not afraid,"_ he spat back.

" _Good,"_ the other man released him and looked down with a pair of cold green eyes, " _because it's only the beginning. You'll lose more friends and you'll kill more and their friends will come to get you and you'll kill them too because you can. I know you can. You have the skill, but when that time arrives and you're done with your revenge, come to my grave and tell me that you're happy."_

Again, it should be noted that Shinn was very bad at taking advices, criticisms even less. Once Athrun had walked away, he returned to his room, seething and snapping at anyone on his way. And thus, the whole cycle of I-know-you're-right-but-I-can't-be-honest-to-myself-if-my-life-depends-on-it made a repeat performance, again and again.

It took him a long time to forgive the other man and the fact that Athrun continued to behave like nothing had happened only slowed the process down. Or maybe it was the recurring act of saving his ass the blue-haired pilot had flawlessly carried out in every possible occasion. Granted, their mission was difficult and without the aids – unwelcome and highly insulting though they were – Shinn might have already died ten times over, but his pride was screaming bloody murder. To get help from the exact person he had been trying to forgive for being more superior than him did not smooth the road to forgiveness. It created big, mountain-sized barriers.

Every single one of them collapsed at the climax of the mission. There was this one moment when Athrun's mobile suit was showered by a barrage of missiles from their enemy's flagship while he was in a deadlock with three other mobile suits, and Shinn, without any second thought, raced to the rescue. Since then, he had been trying to convince himself that it was just an act of retaliation, or at least an effort to pay his debt. He wouldn't allow himself to consider the possibility that it was rooted on something much simpler, or purer.

It was until Athrun came to him after the mission had ended to say thank you. At that moment, looking at the man in front of him and his deep emerald eyes, the real reason presented itself in front of Shinn's eyes in the most glaring way possible.

This was the person he couldn't let die no matter what.

The words continued to swim around in his head long after he had been left alone again. There was something he had always respected in Athrun and he realized now that it was his single-mindedness, his determination. He wanted a better world, one where its people did not have to constantly fear for their life, for losing a home or a loved one, and Shinn found himself strangely drawn to the idea.

Maybe he wasn't as inconsiderate to others as he had initially thought. Maybe he actually cared with what the world would become.

When three months later Athrun started his career in politics, Shinn instantly knew what he should do – what he wanted to do. He sought the other man and heard from his own mouth, " _I cannot change anything just by fighting, Shinn, just by not killing. I have to be the one in command. And then I'll stop the war."_

That was when Shinn's objective in life changed from taking revenge to protecting this man.

The sound of door opening quickly brought him back to present reality. Councilman Jule emerged from the office and left with a brisk pace, followed by Commander Elsman, both looking grim but determined. The last was Councilwoman Clyne who was still talking closely with the chairman, her voice hushed down to a murmur. He nodded and she smiled before placing a kiss on his left cheek, an action that made Shinn raise his eyebrow.

After the councilwoman left with a warm 'good night' to both him and Meyrin, Athrun's eyes fell on him. "Shinn," he greeted, looking as murderous as he sounded. "What are you doing here?"

The black-haired man tried not to shuffle uncomfortably. "I am on duty, Sir," he answered carefully and suppressed a wince when the chairman's face only darkened at his reply.

"I've told you to let one of your subordinates – god knows you have more than a hundred of them – do the daily duties," he growled and shifted his gaze to Meyrin. "Do I even have any schedule to go out tonight?"

"No, Sir," she answered neatly, amusement anything but concealed.

Athrun returned his ominous gaze to him. "Then why are you here?" he demanded.

"Because he is worried," Meyrin supplied in helpfully.

Shinn threw her a particularly nasty glance, not deceived by the innocent look she was sporting on her face. He was about to deny the statement when he caught the soft look in Athrun's eyes and was suddenly robbed of any ability to speak at all.

"You're impossible," the chairman declared, desperation and amusement blending thickly in his voice, and then sighed. "Oh, come in."

Shinn stepped in gingerly into the office, his eyes automatically glancing around to detect anything out of ordinary as Athrun continued to speak with Meyrin about tomorrow's schedule. He had never liked this room since the first time he had set a foot in it. Back then, the room had been kept in a constant state of darkness that reminded him unhappily to a cell for death-row prisoners. Or maybe to a room he often saw in spy movies, used by men in black to do whatever means necessary to force their captive spill out a high-level secret or something. Why anyone would think that setting that kind of atmosphere up in the most important office in PLANT could contribute in making a better decision was beyond Shinn.

Luckily Athrun hated that and had ordered a new lighting system to be installed on his first day of taking office. Still, it could not whisk away the somber atmosphere which had settled stubbornly in the room. It seemed to warn everyone who walked into the room that decisions concerning life and death were made here. On second thought, maybe that was exactly the purpose. To intimidate.

"You have too much in your hands to be waiting on me like this," Athrun told him after closing the door, disapproval still evident in his voice.

Shinn did his best not to sigh at this point. For a supposedly liberal man, the chairman could be frustratingly stubborn at times. "That is basically my duty," he answered flatly.

"You should be organizing others to do it, not doing it yourself," the blue-haired man pointed out as he rounded his desk, collecting some papers scattered on it in process. "Is Viktor sick or something?"

"No, I gave him a night off."

The look that Athrun gave him was exasperated. "Just because you're worried? Shinn, I honestly don't know whether to hit you or kiss you right now."

Shinn felt his face heating up and inwardly snarled at the excited voice in the back of his mind that told him that the second sounded more than a little appealing. Glaring at his protectee, he said stiffly, "You shouldn't say things like that."

"This is the fourth day this week you're watching me full time," Athrun stated. "If I find you outside my door tomorrow morning, I will not hesitate to demote you, is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," he mumbled with a frown. And of course the other man just _had to_ throw him a little smile two seconds later that completely washed off any kind of unfriendliness off his face, leaving him a perfect clone of a boiled shrimp for the second time in half a minute. Sometimes Shinn mourned the fact that someone was allowed to have that much charm.

The chairman, oblivious to the colour of his face – thankfully – turned his attention to his desk. "Let me clear this up first, and then we'll go," he told him.

Shinn nodded and was about to withdraw to a dark, unnoticeable corner when Athrun looked up again. "Did I by any chance mention to you where I'm going to spend the night?" he asked, sounding suspiciously uncomfortable and Shinn knew at once that this would be one of those times when he would spend the rest of the night berating himself for even thinking to work for this man. He tried to maintain a blank face and looked straight at Athrun.

"You're not going to sleep in the residence?"

"No, tomorrow is Sunday," the chairman replied, his tone light but cautious. "I'm going to my mother's house."

A frown was quick to make its way to Shinn's face. "You didn't mention anything about this, Sir."

"Yes, I know," Athrun answered with a sigh. "It completely slipped my mind with all those meetings and whatnots. I'm sorry, Shinn."

"But the house has not been cleared yet."

"I thought you put constant surveillance to all of my estates?"

"Yes, but I need to confirm everything first if you're actually going to spend a night there."

Athrun waved an unconcerned hand. "Don't worry, it's just for the night. Nobody knows I'm going there. I don't think anybody even knows that the house used to belong to my mother except you and me. And the rest of your agents perhaps."

Shinn felt his expression hardening. "Sir, do I need to remind you that you are targeted not only by Naturals but also–"

"Not Naturals, but anti-Coordinator extremists," the older man corrected. "They are not the same."

"Yes, Sir, but my point is, there are also Coordinators who hate you and everything you believe in, and I'm fairly certain that there are some of them here, at Aprilius One. I cannot let you go to any place that may present you to danger without extra protection."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Shinn," Athrun retorted, hints of impatience loud and clear in his voice, "but I want to get away from all these tonight. Put an agent in front of my door if you must but if you're trying to forbid me, I swear I will–"

The rest of his words simply died when Athrun realized the direction his warning was taking. Shinn remained still, not a word out of his mouth, as he watched the other man fall back to his chair, a hand covering his eyes. Even from that distance, Shinn could see that it was shaking.

"Damnit," the chairman hissed, his voice almost inaudible despite the absolute silence in the room. "That's the third time today."

To say that he was not offended by the soon-to-be threat was a downright lie, but at the moment, there was something else that monopolized Shinn's attention. Athrun did not make open threats. His job taught him to be shrewd and to get his point across, he usually employed a method much more tactful, not to mention less crude. This deviation, coupled with the defeated look on the blue-haired man's face, disturbed Shinn greatly.

It was not that he was unfamiliar to the unbelievable amount of stress his protectee had to deal with from time to time. Life for the Chairman of PLANT was not birds and daisies – in fact, it might be the complete opposite. Still, he had never seen Athrun flying off the handle like this since that fight they had four years ago. Admittedly, it was a little bit of a turn-on – Shinn snapped at his inner voice again at this point – but there was something more to this, something bigger, and he couldn't help but to think that it had something to do with the meeting earlier.

He was weighing his options to deal with the situation when Athrun looked up at him again, looking a lot older than he had been a few minutes before. "I'm really sorry, Shinn," he said solemnly, tired green eyes heavy with regret.

While it was widely acknowledged that Shinn Asuka was an insensitive asshole, at this moment he felt that he was anything but. It took him all of his willpower not to cross the ten feet between them, shake the other man and shout _you're not alone, damnit, I'm here for you, why don't you ever let me help you._ This Athrun frustrated him and the fact that he was unable to do anything didn't help. He wasn't even privy to any information from the meeting earlier, how could he possibly help him?

"You look beat-up," he finally said and thought that it came out a little too softer than he had intended. _Oh, whatever._ Call him protective, or even obsessive, but he felt like he would do anything to keep that look away from Athrun's face.

"Is that concern I hear?" Athrun asked, a thin smile flashing across his face, and again Shinn had to restrain himself from doing things he would certainly regret later, particularly because one of them involved taking the other man into his arms.

"You wish," he muttered, hating himself even more when he felt warmth suffusing his cheeks – again. Luckily, any attention the chairman might pay to the unseemly flush on his face was diverted by the ringing from his cell phone. Shinn allowed himself a relieved sigh and inwardly thanked the caller, whoever it was.

"Yes?"

It might be the slight change of inflection in Athrun's voice because Shinn found himself listening more intently after that one word had been uttered. It was – for lack of better word – strange, almost – again, for lack of better word – loving. He had never heard Athrun speaking quite like this and the fact that the other man was keeping his voice low clearly said that he was not supposed to listen to this conversation.

But, well, there was this thing called curiosity and Shinn knew that he was very prone to it, although the reason why it felt more like there was an angry dragon roaring inside his stomach was lost on him.

Throughout the conversation, Athrun had not mentioned a name, but Shinn could already guess who it was. He knew what was going on with the chairman and Commander Elsman and yes, he was not wild about it. The fact that there was someone in the chairman's bedroom beside the chairman himself did not sit well with him. While he understood that Athrun was young and had certain needs to be taken care of – and the whole thing was probably not his business anyway – no one could expect him to be wild about it.

At least, so far nothing dangerous had happened, apart from obvious lack of sleep and a slight limp the chairman would suffer in the next morning, which was perfectly negligible if only he didn't observe too closely. Shinn didn't even know why he felt bothered by the latter.

"You can come to my house," Athrun spoke again to the line, recapturing Shinn's attention. His eyes widened when the older man mentioned a string of address which he recognized as the place in argument earlier.

 _There goes the good sleep for tonight,_ he thought sarcastically and was forced to correct himself on the next second. Having Commander Elsman in that house meant extra security for the chairman, which suited his purpose very well. A ZAFT officer as experienced as the commander had all the necessary qualities to guard the chairman throughout the night. The close proximity they undoubtedly would share should also help, even when they were doing whatever they usually did in such occasions.

Again, Shinn didn't know why the image made him want to beat something into a bloody pulp. Fortunately at that moment Athrun ended the call and thus diverted his attention from any dark, homicidal plan brewing in the more rebellious parts of his brain.

"Are you having a guest coming?" Shinn inquired after making sure that his voice would sound cool and unperturbed. He couldn't say that he succeeded, but at least he didn't sound like an angry dragon, which was an accomplishment judging from how antagonistic he felt at the moment.

"Yes," Athrun nodded but didn't offer further explanation, only his green eyes looking at him steadily. Understanding the message, Shinn decided to turn to technicalities.

"I'll station two agents in a car in front of the house and another two at the other side, just beyond the backyard. You can contact them by using the first speed dial from any phone in the house, or just contact me from your cell. If anything happens, they will have full authority to barge in and take you back to the residence. And for your own safety, Sir, please do not allow anyone else in the house but... him."

There was an awkward moment after he had grudgingly uttered the last word, which was broken before long by a very beautiful smile on the chairman's face. Shinn felt that his frustration had just quadrupled. It should be prohibited that a single smile could make him feel that... elated. Even better, everything about this man should be made illegal for the sake of his rapidly-dwindling sanity.

"I must have done something really good to deserve you, Shinn," Athrun said, a genuine note in the playful tone of voice he was assuming. Still, the black-haired man couldn't chase away the feeling that he was being played far too easily.

"You are not taking this seriously," he accused, glaring at the older man.

"Wrong, I take your caution very seriously," the chairman told him.

"Yeah, like what you did at the party."

At this overly petulant comeback, Athrun's reaction was to roll his eyes heavenward. "Let it go, will you? You've been sulking about it for weeks."

"That is because you were putting yourself in danger unnecessarily," Shinn heard himself saying tensely.

The chairman gave him a long-suffering look that was touched with the barest hint of guilt. "I know and I apologize. I should have told you or one of your men. And by the way, we already have this discussion for at least three hundred times."

"If you listened to me in the first place, there would be no need to have this discussion at all," Shinn snapped, irritated. He hadn't been able to extricate any veritable explanation from Athrun concerning his thirty-minute vanishing act in the masquerade. For some reasons, the chairman had been refusing to give him any and from experience, this stubbornness would not wear off anywhere near soon.

"Again, I admit that I was wrong," Athrun said patiently. "And I've offered to buy you a dinner to make up for it, but you refused."

"It's not professional," Shinn muttered. Actually there were two reasons why he had said 'no', the first and official one being a simple applied law of mathematic. For Athrun to disappear on him without any prior notice was the nightmare of his life, especially when he only had seven other agents in a room that big, full of people in masks and costumes. There were thousands of scenarios he could come up with that would implicate Athrun in terrible, almost certainly dangerous situations. Allowing that to happen meant that he had failed in his duty and failed duties didn't sit well with Shinn. On the record, that was the reason of him going ballistic.

The second was a little guilt-trip he had been taking since he had realized that the chairman was missing. He had been too absorbed in a heated argument with his dance partner to keep an eye on Athrun. How someone could be that infuriating was beyond him. If Shinn did not oppose using violence against a lady, he might have punched the blonde woman for the amount of frustration she had been causing on him. At the end of the party, she had successfully ended in a tie with Athrun for the first place in his list of people-I-can-live-infinitely-happier-without.

But a victor might be announced soon, he realized bitterly when Athrun looked at him squarely. And this would be one of those times when he felt frustrated for being right.

"If I didn't know better, Shinn, I'd think you're afraid to go on a date with me," the chairman said with a smirk.

Not for the first time in the last ten minutes he wished that he could hate this man.

 

\---

 

There were three main reasons why Athrun Zala was the most eligible bachelor in PLANT.

One, he was famous and powerful. To be the chairman of the Supreme Council at the age of twenty-one attracted no little attention, especially since he had created a legend out of himself among the ranks of ZAFT before that. Most people would not mind to get on his right side and it was a well-known fact that many had tried – and probably would keep trying – to get into his bed only to gain his favour, an attempt which sadly had remained fruitless until now. The fact that he had yet to marry only added more spice to the issue and made chins wag more than necessary.

Two, the quality that made young women everywhere sigh in dreamy unison, he was stunningly handsome. More than half female population in PLANT, according to a poll hosted by a top woman magazine, admitted on having him as their object of fantasy. More than a few loose-tongued males also had been heard to comment that the chairman was very gorgeous, bordering on beautiful. Combined with a very gentlemanly, almost impeccable manner, this attribute made him a perfect head-turner everywhere he went.

Three, to complete the set and act as a very seductive icing to the cake, he was an awfully rich man. He had a total of four estates, all courtesy to his father, and wealth that might buy him two or three cities had he wished for it. With all those qualities as an armor, it was almost a wonder that he didn't turn out to be a proud, snotty bastard – although a certain white-haired friend of his would heavily disagree with this.

The answer to that lay on the way his parents had raised him. Her mother was a beautiful, kind woman who had taught him that modesty was not only a virtue, but also a shield. His father, a stiff and ambitious man, was anything but a loving, softhearted parent and Athrun had always had to work hard everyday in order to gain a little affection from him. He learnt that everything came with a price, that a smile was often more untruthful than a frown, and capacity was far more valuable than looks or fortune.

Athrun respected his father very much, but he adored his mother to the most extreme end. Because Patrick Zala was a very busy man, he spent a lot of his free time with her. She had a little house on the outskirt of Aprilius One where they would sometimes go to on holidays. Not that he minded to spend some times alone with her. His father was very demanding and to be constantly within his watchful glare was a little too much for him.

However, since his mother had gone to Junius Seven and he enlisted to ZAFT, he rarely visited the house again. To him, it was a place that held so many beautiful memories, too beautiful that they hurt now that she was gone. It was not until he decided to do something about the war that he got the courage to face her death and return to the house.

Despite his grim anticipation, he found the place to be strangely comforting. In truth, he had always liked the house, perhaps because it was nothing like the palatial estates he had inherited from his father. Still, to completely feel at ease in the house required more work from his part. It slowly became his hideout, a place where he would go to and spend a night in every time he felt particularly stressed out. Now that he was the Chairman of PLANT, the occasion increased dramatically. It was no different this time, even though he had to admit that the fact that he would have a guest later was a very pleasant addition.

Athrun glanced around the room in satisfaction. Everything was perfect for the night, including the light – the dimmer the better, especially since he still had his anonymity to uphold – and the atmosphere. He decided to make a final turn around the house before his guest arrived. Everything that might reveal his identity, like pictures featuring him since childhood to teenage his mother had kept in the house, had been neatly stowed in a box now hidden in the closet. The only one he could not remove was an enormous painting above an old-fashioned fireplace in the sitting room. It was a picture of his mother and him when he had been eight or nine, which shouldn't be too much of a problem because as much as he hated to admit it, the boy in the picture looked remarkably like a girl.

The house only had two bedrooms and both had been prepared before his arrival. He still couldn't figure out how it was possible with such short notice and his wonder only increased when he realized that the place was near spotless. As the chairman of the Supreme Council, he was required to stay in the official residence behind the council building. He trusted the care of all of his other estates to Meyrin who had volunteered to manage everything for him, from organizing household employees to making sure that they did their job properly. But unless a servant had come earlier today to clean the house, Athrun couldn't help but to suspect that it was all Shinn's doing since Meyrin couldn't possibly knew that he would go there tonight.

His last stop was the kitchen. The refrigerator had also been restocked with fresh supplies and behind an unopened coffee package, he discovered a bottle of champagne. Athrun found himself smiling at this little surprise. That was what he really liked about Shinn, very meticulous, and while this particular trait could be frustrating at times, he couldn't say that he minded at this moment.

Satisfied, Athrun finished his inspection and returned to the sitting room with the bottle. Now that he had showered and changed his council robe with normal clothes, he poured himself a glass of champagne and settled comfortably on the couch with a book. Being in the house already eased some of his tension, but another kind of nervousness was quick to catch up with him. He soon found himself unable to concentrate on the book and with his eyes glancing toward the front window every thirty seconds, the task proved to be a lot more than he could handle.

He abandoned every attempt to read five minutes later and decided to stare at said window. There was something wrong with him. Dearka never made him feel like this – hope, anticipation, and fear glazed with a splash of tingling excitement. It was not normal and he was talking about a guy he had only known for a month and met twice. It might have something to do with the fact that he knew nothing about the other man and for his own sake, Athrun hoped that it was really the case.

It still didn't explain why he was carrying the mask from that night inside his bag though.

Athrun sighed and sank even deeper in the couch after having a sip of champagne to calm his nerves. He was certain that it was just him being sentimental. The lack of love in his life in the past few years might have triggered it. Being the leader of PLANT, there were things he refrained himself from doing and one of them was getting involved with anyone. His position might put that person in danger, especially because he was actively trying to stop the war. The last thing he needed right now was to have someone he loved used against him.

Dearka was a special case. Their relationship was the result of an unexpected chain of cause and effects. Admittedly, he sometimes thought about it and wondered if there was something more than met the eye, but in the end decided that friends-with-benefits was the best to describe them. They liked each other and in a way, they also supported each other. Athrun was more than inclined to keep it that way.

But what about that man in the party?

Athrun suddenly scrambled to his feet and dashed toward the master bedroom where he kept most of his belongings. He had almost forgotten to cover his face. After all those efforts to remove every picture of him in the house, it would be downright stupid to still allow his guest to see who he really was. Besides, he had asked Meyrin to buy him a new mask. The one he had worn at the masquerade was somewhat uncomfortable to wear and very ornate. He had endured the discomfort during their second meeting, but if they planned to keep this up, he would rather make himself as comfortable as possible.

The new one, also silver in colour, was made of cloth. Athrun slid it to place and studied himself in the mirror. He couldn't say that it made a perfect disguise – it certainly wouldn't fool Dearka or Lacus – but it was better than nothing. The other man had not shown any sign of recognizing him as the Chairman of PLANT, which was good because being with him made the blue-haired man feel a lot of things he had never quite felt before.

Or maybe it was just what he wanted to believe. Athrun knew very well that he was attractive and the little scrutiny he was having on himself with the mirror's aid only confirmed the fact. In all honesty, he couldn't really blame the masked man for wanting to sleep with him – not that he hadn't encouraged the idea himself. If anything, he had barely said one word which wasn't a definite come-on.

But was it all? If it was, why hadn't they said goodbye yet?

A sudden ringing sound turned his gaze away from the mirror. Athrun looked oddly at the phone which was sitting on the desk for a moment. Apart from those agents outside, only two people knew that he was here and one of them obviously didn't have this number. But if it was the case... Frowning, he picked up the receiver and answered, "Hello?"

His guess turned out to be correct and Shinn's voice came through the line stiffly. "Good evening, Sir. I only want to check if everything is alright."

Athrun allowed himself a long, patient sigh before answering tonelessly, "Everything is roughly the same as thirty minutes ago when you left, Shinn."

The silence he deliberately left behind was uncomfortable and he let it linger for a while, having no intention at all to break it himself. There _was_ a reason why he had chosen to spend the night after a particularly stressful day in this house. Shinn was being paranoid and he wasn't really looking forward to a night full of phone calls from his head of security whose suspicion was bordering on abnormal at best.

He could practically hear the defensive nervousness in the younger man's voice when he spoke. "I was just–"

"I know," Athrun smoothly interrupted. "You're just doing your job and I can't thank you enough for your concern. But do me a favor, Shinn, and make the next call tomorrow morning or you may interrupt in the middle of something very important."

He could tell that his message clearly went through when the other man cleared his throat and replied in a decidedly uncomfortable voice, "Yes, Sir."

"Good night then," Athrun said lightly. "And thanks a lot for the champagne by the way."

A responding 'good night, Sir' was the gruff reply and he put down the receiver with a smile. Sometimes he couldn't help but to wonder if it was utter lack of smoothness that made the younger man so endearing to him. Living in a world full of politics, ineloquence was a feature he rarely came across, and Shinn, despite possessing a skill that might frighten everyone who tried to take his life, had the eloquence of a near-mute hermit.

And then the doorbell rang.

The sound surprised him so much that it seemed that his heart had stopped beating for a moment. After throwing a last glance to the mirror, Athrun scurried toward the front door. The handle was cold, his hand felt clammy and the mahogany door suddenly looked much more than just a door.

_What the hell?_

Feeling stupid, he hastily opened the door and was greeted by a smiling face, a little hesitant though it seemed. The dim light in the front porch made the other man's hair looked dark, almost black, and the mask now he wore was much simpler, the darkest colour of black that brought out the violet of his eyes. Heartbeat already thrice faster than normal, Athrun felt a lot stupider than before when he found out that he couldn't speak.

"Um, good evening?" His guest finally spoke, looking uncomfortable with the silence stretched between them. For the briefest moment, Athrun was tempted to close the door and find a place to hide as soon as possible. Something was definitely wrong with him. Where was his always-present eloquence which had silenced all of his political opponents in monthly meetings and public debates? This was just someone he slept with, nothing more, but for some reasons, he was behaving like a nervous schoolgirl.

He forced himself to smile in return and said, trying to sound casual, "Good evening to you too. Come in."

The other man shot him a grateful smile and stepped inside. Closing the door behind them, Athrun began to feel a little calmer, convinced that he wasn't the only one feeling this way if the stiffness in his guest's posture was anything to go by. He allowed himself a little relief and carefully spoke again, "Do you want something to drink?"

"Oh, anything is fine," the other man quickly said.

Athrun went to the kitchen to fetch another glass and used the time to regain his composure and assess the situation. So there was this man in his sitting room, doing whatever he was doing right now. Despite every courtesy they had been graciously showing each other, the reason of him being here was still, in a few words, to sleep with him. So what should he do next? Athrun didn't think that he had ever been trapped in a more awkward situation. With Dearka everything was easier – fewer words, more actions.

He sighed deeply. This was what he got for allowing himself to get carried way. He certainly could stay here as long as he wanted, but in the end, he still had to get out there.

When he finally made his reluctant return, his guest was standing in front of the artificial fireplace and staring at the large painting. Athrun suddenly felt more than a little uncomfortable at the undivided attention his younger self in the picture was getting and concentrated on pouring champagne into the new glass and adding some to his almost empty one. Was he recognizable from that picture? Or was it because he looked much too _girly_? Hiding a frown, he walked toward his guest silently and gave him the wineglass.

"Thanks," the other man received it with a smile and took a slow, polite sip. When he made an appreciative sound in his throat, Athrun promised himself that he would buy Shinn a truckload of his favourite blueberry muffin tomorrow morning.

"It tastes so good that I almost feel guilty," his company said after a second sip.

"You're a special guest," he replied modestly.

"I hope it's a compliment."

"Undeniably," he smiled, adding just a touch of coyness to it, and sipped his own glass. He hid another smile when his guest visibly made a tremendous effort to look away from him and return his gaze to the painting.

"Is she your mother?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Defensive and more than a little wary, Athrun answered, "Yes."

"She's very beautiful," the other man said, eyes not leaving the picture.

Something in his voice told Athrun that it was not just an empty praise. He felt a familiar, long-hidden sense of pride somewhere in his heart and found himself gazing at his mother's green eyes, one of so many things she had given him. "Yes," he said softly, lost in bittersweet nostalgia for a moment before adding with a more playful tone, "It's something I really have to thank her."

His companion chuckled and pointedly glanced at the little boy in the painting. "Looking at that picture, I must agree."

"Naturally," Athrun said with a wink and took another sip from his glass. "Have you had dinner?"

"Uh, no," the other man replied hesitantly. Athrun nodded and turned around, already planning what he could make with all the ingredients stocked in the refrigerator – he wasn't that good, but a few simple meals should be manageable at least – when an arm wound its way around his waist and held him back. The action caught him totally off guard that he almost let his glass drop to the polished floor. Had his sense been dulled so much by years of convenience and Shinn's pampering?

There were warm lips on his neck, a tongue lapping at this spot that made him repeatedly bit back a whimper as fingers reached out to touch his. A thumb traced a path down his palm and Athrun wondered if he had gone mad or it really felt that good for some reasons. He gasped when teeth joined in and bit the juncture of his neck tenderly, his hands already trembling so much that it was a marvel he didn't spill any champagne left in his glass. His companion seemed to realize this and the glass were soon relinquished from his hold as the arm on his waist tuned him around to face the other man's dark eyes.

"Can I have you instead of dinner?"

Athrun was tempted to say no for a moment but decided that it wasn't a good idea as his lips were captured in a languid kiss, a gentle hand clasping the back of his head. Slowly closing his eyes, he made an approving sound when the other man's tongue caressed his lips, sending a tingle down his spine. He was certainly not complaining. Neither did he mind the awkwardness earlier if this was the end result. He let the other man taste every inch of his mouth and tilted his head a bit when his back collided with the wall just beside the fireplace. As much as he liked to be in control, to allow this man have his way with him made him feel lightheaded and weak on the knees.

Well, at least now he had discovered the real reason why he couldn't end this relationship.

When he was finally released, panting and very much turned-on, it took Athrun all of his power not to shove his guest to the couch and beg to be fucked. Instead, he placed little kisses along the other man's jaw, returning the small treat given to his neck earlier. There were steps to this and he didn't plan to be the one who surrendered first.

"I think I like your way of thinking," he informed his companion who laughed lightly, either at his respond or the breathless note in his voice.

"I thought so."

Consensus reached, fingers started to work on button-down shirts and pull other articles off. Only rustles of clothes filled the silence as they were removed and tossed aside until Athrun ran a finger on his guest's still-clothed chest, deliberately brushing above a nipple, and decided to ask.

"What's your name?"

Stopping in the middle of dealing with his own clothes, his companion raised a pair of curious eyebrows. "I thought there's the I-have-to-be-mysterious issue."

"The issue is still there," he answered calmly, trying very hard to keep a straight face as he continued, "but I want to scream something else other than 'fuck' and 'oh god' later."

Pleased to see the effect of his words on the other man, he grinned at the darkening violet eyes. It seemed that he was pushing all the right buttons. He could almost see the black fire in them, ready to make him want and burn, and at the next moment, he already found his hands pinned above his head, leaving him an easy prey to all of the other man's desires.

"I see," his companion drawled, lips so irresistibly close that Athrun only had to lean forward a bit to have a taste of them once more. Which he might just do had the other man not continued. "Alright, you can call me Kira."

His position might be extremely vulnerable and uncomfortable, but the chairman laughed all the same. "I have to say that it's a fetish you and your sister have," he said, amused.

"You can continue screaming 'oh god' if you want, I won't mind," the guest told him.

Athrun smirked. "I may, if you once again display the same prowess like you did that night in the hotel. Or perhaps more."

"As good as done," his companion declared, kissing him lightly on the lips. His eyes however, when they looked at him again, were unreadable and they made him feel that something far from good was coming.

And damn, he was right. "Then what can I call you?"

He sighed inwardly and considered for a moment, weighing his options. There were hundreds of names he could come up with and Alex Dino, the one he had frequently used when the need called for it, had remained undisclosed until now. Still. He looked at the other man silently, emotions he rather not identified battling inside him. Just once, he wanted to hear his name from this man's mouth. Was it impossible?

Yes, Athrun Zala was stupid and sentimental, he could as well admit it at this point. All the same, it wouldn't stop him from being both stupid and sentimental. He gazed steadily into amethyst eyes, the soft answer falling from his mouth.

"Athrun."

His companion's first reaction was to give him a dry look. "And you said I had a fetish."

"You don't like him?" he inquired as nonchalantly possible, ignoring the sheer drop the contents of his stomach were experiencing. Shinn's warning was echoing in his head – _there are some of them here in Aprilius One_ – and at this moment there was nothing worse for him than to realize that he had been fooling around with someone who had the desire to kill him. He was stupid. Definitely.

 _Not him, please, anyone but him,_ he heard himself repeating silently in his mind.

To his relief, the other man shook his head slightly. "No, it's not that. I just think it's a very difficult one to live up to, with everything he has achieved and all that."

Deciding that he was off the dangerous ground, Athrun allowed himself a little smirk. "You tell me, o mighty general."

His companion's response was a chuckle and a long kiss that left him breathless and even more turned-on than before. Athrun decided that he didn't really mind the pleased look on the other man's face after what he had done and definitely not now when the mouth was working on his neck again. He overtly gasped when the mouth moved to his left ear and a tongue licked the outer lobe, hardly aware that his hands were still pinned above his head. In fact, anything less important than that tongue couldn't seem to get through the thick haze of lust clouding his mind at the moment.

"Well now," his guest purred in front of his ear, complacence nothing but evident in his voice, "what shall we do, Athrun-san?"

The sound of his name, uttered by that rough, velvety voice, brought a shiver down his spine and Athrun found that he suddenly couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes to get his roaring emotions under control and whispered shakily, almost pleading, "Say it again."

His request was obliged with a kiss pressed to his ear. "Athrun," the voice murmured softly and hot breaths were caressing his ear, making his whole body tremble. Athrun fought back a sob that was threatening to be ripped out of his throat but realized that he couldn't. There was an unfamiliar sting in his eyes, followed by unmistakable warmth that let him know what it was as his companion hummed his name again, so affectionately that it hurt. "Athrun."

"Yes," he hissed and wrung his wrists out of the other man's grasp, crushing the eager mouth with his own. They tumbled to the floor in a heap of messy clothes and tangled limbs and there were hands touching him in places that made him whimper and moan. He could think of nothing else but that voice, repeatedly whispering his name like a chant, as first drops of moisture dampened the silver cloth that acted as a mask to his face.

_Athrun._

That was him. He was Athrun. No sir, no chairman, no damn Zala.

He was just Athrun.

  
__**End Chapter 3  
  
**


	4. Chapter 4

  
Kira woke up with a start.

The first thought that approached his foggy mind was that he had the strangest feeling, like he had woken up at the wrong side of the bed at the wrong hour. He could not remember if he had been dreaming or visited by a grotesque piece of nightmare, but if his erratic heartbeat was anything to go by, the latter was entirely too possible. All he knew were that now he was awake and everything around him was draped in a curtain of darkness.

His eyelids felt heavy when he blinked repeatedly to erase remnants of sleep from his eyes. The attempts were slow and on the whole unsuccessful since the rest of his body had made it clear that they wanted him to return to the warm, comfortable depth of slumber. Kira moved his hand to help with the task and it was then when he realized that there was something that anchored his arm securely in place.

Any thought of going back to sleep deserted him completely when the realization that it was another arm struck him like lightning on a cloudless, sunny day. Warm breaths on his face, frenzied kisses rained upon his skin, and a breathless voice laced with sweet seduction came back to him in a downpour of memories. For a long moment, so long that it almost felt like an eternity, he could only stare at the sleeping face, peaceful, utterly oblivious to the havoc erupting in his mind at this very moment.

His surroundings as silent as grave, the sound of his heartbeat dominated the night – or was it morning? Kira willed the tenseness in his muscles to ebb while his mind struggled to awaken its every division. Many recollections, more lucid and less jumbled, began to resurface. Now he remembered the night before, his arrival, the exquisite wine and... everything which followed afterward.

It should not be surprising with all things considered. The offer to stay had been unexpected, yes, but of course his dear 'Athrun' would not let him leave in the middle of the night, especially since he had come to the house with a cab. It had been well past midnight when they had finally finished, both of them exhausted but also reasonably sated. When the blue-haired man had told him to stay, Kira had seen no reason to refuse.

Perhaps he was only surprised because it had not happened during two previous occasions, which was logical since it had been at a party – in a friend's house, no less – and a hotel. And of course he also owed it to the fact that the last person who had shared a bed with him was Cagalli and this obviously had ceased to happen when they had been nine or ten. There were those one-night things he sometimes allowed himself to indulge in, but like an old fairy tale, he had always ended everything before the clock tolled twelve times at midnight. Kira didn't think that it was wise to let the world know that the Protector of ORB was interested in men, at least not now, and because of that he could not afford a steady relationship. Cagalli still needed him as long as peace had yet to take root firmly and he was prepared to do anything to help her. Sacrificing his needs was but a little loss compared to what she had to go through, being the leader of a neutral country since nineteen.

But there were times when the loneliness was just a little too strong, when he craved for nothing else but a warm body next to him when he woke up in the morning. Kira wanted to love and be loved, but the only man he had fallen in love with was a best friend who would never look his way. Ssigh Argyle had been in love with his sister for as long as he could remember, but knowing Kira's feelings, Cagalli never reacted to his approaches. He could not help hating her for that sometimes although in the end, voice of reason always interfered and won.

The loneliness remained, a wound, small but deep under his consciousness. It might be the reason why he could not say no to an offer, so utterly crazy and irrational it was, proposed by a nameless stranger. After a little contemplation during his journey back to ORB, he had arrived to a conclusion that whatever he had done to keep hold of this man was also a part of his desperation. He wanted to hope, to believe that loneliness would not be his eternal company.

With a little, enigmatic smile, Kira studied the man lying next to him. The blue-haired head was turned facing him slightly and the space they had maintained between them was enough for him to examine the beautiful features. Maybe it was strange that his arm was the only part of his body which touched the other man, considering the intimacy they had shared again and again. Kira wondered at this, but then decided that to sleep so closely with another person and feel reasonably secure took a certain kind of trust two strangers who had not even known each other's name certainly did not have.

In a way, the deal to keep their anonymity was also convenient to him. He was a person who held a high office in ORB and consequently also in the eye of the world. The only word to describe what he had now with this man was 'affair', the infamous anathema which had brought down many world-class politicians and people of great importance. His position might be quite secure, owing to his lineage and unsurpassed skills, but Kira preferred not to have more troubles coming his way before the world was settled for good.

Still, he could not help his curiosity. He eyed the silvery white mask and thought of the other man's evasive responds every time they approached the subject of their true identity. Kira would not offer more than he received on this level, but he certainly did not regret his decision to take the chance left by Cagalli and give his real name, even if under a different basis. To hear it whispered again and again as a testimony of pure pleasure had made the entire night stand above the rest. Something inside him had stirred and he knew that it had been more than perfunctory, the gentleness he had shown to his blue-haired partner last night.

It almost felt like they had been making love.

Sighing deeply, Kira tried to banish the thought from his mind. It was not love. Love should not be built on a string of secrecies, and definitely not on anonymity. He knew that the other man wanted peace between Naturals and Coordinators, but that far was also where his knowledge stopped. And by the lord, they had only known each other – if it could be called that – for less than five weeks.

There was actually one step he could make to improve their relationship. The more he stared at it, the more he felt that the silver mask covering his bedmate's face was nothing but a ridiculous liability. It would definitely be a sign of trust to reveal their face to each other and Kira was more than willing to show his. There was little danger in his part, especially here in PLANT. Unless this man held a very high rank or had an access to ORB's military database, his face should not be easily recognized as the legendary general.

But there was still a considerable risk, the more reasonable part of his mind argued. He would only jeopardize himself and consequently his sister and ORB if he continued following his heart's desires more than he already had. And how did he know _for sure_ that this 'Athrun' would not recognize him?

A brief reflection of the other man's reluctance flitted across his mind, but when the tip of his middle finger touched the soft material of the mask, Kira found his resolve dissolving more quickly than a blink of an eye. All he must do was to hook a finger under the mask and very slowly pull it upward. His sleeping partner did not have to know about it and he would keep it a secret. At least until they were ready to strip themselves bare of all pretenses.

But another secret? A deep, foreign pain flashed across Kira's heart. His hand hesitated and he let it hover there for a long moment, his eyes never leaving the sleeping face. Did he really want to pile another secret on top of the towering mound they had already buried themselves in? And for some reasons, thinking about the action also prickled his sense of honour. This was an agreement they had settled on together. He should not be thinking about betraying that trust.

 _But you want to know_ , another voice, sly and seductive, pointed out and at this Kira was forced to admit the small truth. Just a little, just a moment, and he would not have to live with this curiosity.

His fingers, now more certain and losing their hesitation fast, made their contact with dark blue tresses he had gripped and caressed lovingly throughout the night. They evoked a different kind of excitement this time. His heartbeat was already quickening when he felt the mask, and then the smooth skin. Just a little. Just a moment.

"You don't want to do that."

Kira quickly drew back his hand at this soft-spoken warning. A pair of green eyes, unreadable under the insufficient lighting in the room, stared back at him, multiplying his guilt easily by a hundred.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice meek and apologetic. But to his mounting anxiety, the other man said nothing for a long time. His eyes did not lose their concentration on him, almost like they were searching for something – which might be guilt for all he knew. Kira could not help but to wonder if he had taken one step too far and that it was cold anger that was staring back at him from behind the emerald veils.

He had not expected for the hold on his arm to tighten and for his companion to slink closer. Soft lips sought for his and they started to play the slow prelude of a kiss, but Kira found himself unable to respond properly, not certain of the other man's mood and intentions. His hesitation was undoubtedly noticed since the kiss was broken quickly. His partner settled back to his part of the bed and studied him silently for a few moments. Kira had no choice but to wait in equal silence, only too conscious of the warm hand still resting on top of his left one. He had made his mistake and an apology had been accordingly delivered. Now he was waiting for the verdict.

An eternity must have passed before any semblance of response made its way to be presentable to his eyes. The lips quirked slightly and the blue-haired man tilted his head to a side.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Kira responded, relieved to see a smile accompanying the greeting. The mask pretty much concealed the rest of his face, but his eyes were somewhat softer compared to earlier. Or at least they seemed softer to him. For good measure, he added mildly, "Sorry I woke you up."

The other man shook his head, allowing small tendrils of blue hair to fall and partly cover his eyes. "No, it's just me and my habit. I cannot sleep for more than a few hours at a time."

"Hardly a beauty sleep, isn't it?" Kira commented and earned himself a deep-throated chuckle.

"Since you're already smitten with me whether I'm beautiful or not, what do I care?"

Kira glanced at his smiling partner and propped himself up to a side, careful not to invade the other's private zone more than strictly necessary. "That is exactly what I want to prove," he explained, placid without being too defensive.

That tone usually worked with everyone – excluding his sister who would just tell him to shut up or else – but this time it was different. He could almost see a hand, starting to build a castle wall from grains of invisible sand between them, as the emerald eyes narrowed slightly.

Should have known better than to approach the subject.

"I have burns under this mask," the other man said at last, voice heavy with various undercurrents. Trepidation, warning, a dash of timidity and the familiar touch of charm; all the right mix of ingredients within the right amount. It was either he was face-to-face with a man with a disfigured face for real or the best actor of the century.

Kira stared back at him. "Burns," he repeated blankly.

"Yes. _Burns_ – you know, those lesions you got from flirting too long with fire."

Kira refrained from snorting in disbelief just in time. No one with actual burn injuries would treat them as lightly as the blue-haired man did. Definitely a blunder, that one.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" he leant in closer, keeping his voice in the same smooth, imperturbable level.

"Maybe it's in your nature to be suspicious," the other man retaliated, in his eyes a challenge for him to say more. The warning part mushroomed as the timidity shriveled into nothingness. It was a red light if he ever saw one.

"All right, I'm not going to say anything else about it," Kira stepped back voluntarily. His endeavor in maturity was rewarded with a slow curving of lips although their owner said nothing. That was, Kira decided, the last time he would try breaching the Law of Sleeping with A Stranger. For some times, at least. Until he found another gap to sneak unnoticed by those evil law-upholders that seemed to crowd around him.

"It's almost five. Aren't you hungry?" The sudden, almost abrupt question threw him off for a second and Kira blinked owlishly before the words registered. Right. Dinner. The thought of food sent a prompt stimulation to his empty stomach and he could only hope that he wasn't blushing too furiously when it decided to raise some very audible protests for his all-night-long neglect.

"That answered it," his partner gave him an amused look from behind that silver mask and slipped out from under the cream-coloured duvet they were sharing. "Give me a minute. I'll prepare something for us."

Using all of his Ultimate-Coordinator advantage in velocity, Kira grabbed the pale arm, satisfied when the other man was forced to settle back down because of the impact, and declared, "No, you stay here. It was my fault that you skipped dinner last night, so I'll cook."

"You're a guest," the protest was delivered with obvious disapproval. "Of course I have to–"

"–tell me where the kitchen is and let me handle the rest."

The blue-haired man opened his mouth to continue to protest but Kira beat him to it. "I insist," he said firmly and leant forward to give the corner of that lovely mouth a small kiss.

In return, he received a long, assessing gaze that seemed to be more suspicious than anything. Kira put on his best innocent face, hoping that the effect was not lost by the application of his mask, and was relieved when the other man's features softened into a smile.

"It wasn't your fault last night," he said, thousands of innuendo lurking just beneath the silky veneer of his voice. "Not entirely, I mean."

Kira couldn't help but to smirk. "Yes, I remember that you cooperated very well, but it was still first and foremost my fault. If you can be so good as to show me where the kitchen is, Sir, I'll return the favor."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that he had said something wrong. The eyes dimmed and there was something – he didn't see it, more like _feel_ it – something like distaste now hanging in the air, creating a subtle but prickling tension. Kira was puzzled. What did he say?

To conclude his bafflement with a big red cherry on top, that 'something' disappeared a second later, leaving only a trail of vague aftertaste. The masked face he was looking at was once again perfectly genial, complete with a crust of amusement that was evident in his voice as he said, "All right, you leave me with no choice but to accept your gracious offer."

Kira only stared. He felt like he was missing an important link somewhere and that was why he didn't quite understand what had happened. Seemingly oblivious, the other man only waved toward a door he had not noticed the night before. "You may use the bathroom first. It's just there."

He studied the masked face for a few more seconds before deciding that it was a lost cause. Nodding absentmindedly, he reached for the nearest piece of clothes lying on the floor and was forced to fight back a perfectly embarrassing blush when the flimsy garment turned out to be the other man's briefs.

That he failed to do so was proven when his companion asked with a touch of unadulterated surprise. "Are you blushing?"

Kira's vehement denials – _what, of course not, you're seeing things_ – died halfway when he received a smirk.

"Yes, you are. And don't try to deny it."

He was tempted to try that line of defense again – after all, the only thing that kept this room from total darkness was the dim lamp outside, and really, people tended to see things in the dark, not to mention there was his tanned skin to hide every sort of disgraceful blushes – but realized that his face was once more heating up. And if the widening smirk was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know what's interesting?" the other man said again and left a deliberately-long, undoubtedly-amused pause before continuing. "For someone who was so wild and aggressive only a few hours before, you certainly can act like a prude."

Kira couldn't say that he felt insulted, but all he knew, at the next second he had pounced at his company with the full intention of gaining an upper hand for once, even if it was in a relatively different term. What he didn't expect was for the blue-haired man to be waiting for his attack and dodging it with complete ease. As a result, he found himself grasping for thin air and falling back face-first toward the bed. To complete his humiliation, just as he was about to turn around, there was a sudden weight on his back, effectively disallowing him to do so.

"I take it that you're not yet satisfied?" the seductive voice purred just above his ear, making his hair stand up at their ends. Kira desperately clung to the last vestiges of his resolution instead of focusing his attention to the feeling of skin against skin, and realized that he would lose the battle fast unless he did something drastic.

"Wait," he mumbled breathlessly at the pillow and raked his brain for something to say. "Food. Cook. _Eat._ Remember?"

"Spoilsport," he could practically _hear_ the pout in his partner's voice and resisted a relieved grin. Not utter defeat. And he might still be able to do something about that.

With a sigh, the other man got up slowly, and that was when Kira slipped an arm around the naked waist, pulling him back to the bed. Not missing the surprised gasp, he was mindful enough to use his other arm to soften the impact of the fall. Green eyes blinked up at him, half in shock and half in expectation as Kira propped his head under his hand, looking down.

"I may be interested later," he declared and waited as his announcement was duly processed. It didn't take long for the blue-haired man to give a response in the shape of a smirk.

"That can be arranged," he drawled and pulled Kira down for a long kiss. The general, of course, did not mind this proceeding. Soft lips fastened themselves on his and occasionally softer sounds would rise, filling his senses completely as he closed his eyes. There was a pleasant hum in his chest, spreading a warm beat throughout his body in tandem with his pulse.

He often thought about kissing Ssigh, particularly when he was kissing someone, and wondered if it would feel different, or if there would be a 'tingle' he didn't feel with anyone else. But when they parted, he didn't think that it was important. He liked this, _here_ , being with this man, even if he barely knew anything about him. Like now, when once again his full attention was arrested by those beautiful eyes, by the faint glimmer of mischief in them.

"Are you sure you don't want me now?" The question – blatant offer – was delivered in the company of an innocent look and a not-so-innocent tone.

"Yes, I'm sure," he answered firmly and made an effort to rise from the bed, "or we may not get out of the bed anytime soon."

His partner chuckled and winked at him. "Well, then go quickly before I can change your mind."

Kira escaped successfully to the bathroom after one more kiss, still grinning to no one in particular. He blinked furiously when his eyes were reacquainted with sufficient light after lingering too long in the dark bedroom. Everything around him, he noticed after a few moments, was bright and spotless and the floor felt cold under his bare feet. There was something strange here, although he couldn't pinpoint what it was. Something like... Kira shook his head. Nah. It was just him being nervous in a new, foreign place.

He turned the shower on and let the water to adjust to a milder temperature as he took off his mask. He blessed the cool air that kissed his formerly-covered skin and smiled happily at the more familiar reflection in the mirror. Okay, so he was grinning way too much at this unearthly hour in the morning, but really, he couldn't find it in himself to care when the reason was so utterly obvious.

If that was what waking up with someone did to him, he couldn't imagine what living with someone would. Someone he loved, someone he would cherish until his dying days, someone he would protect and not hesitate to throw away his life for.

Deciding that his mind was already over-processing this early, Kira tested the water and stepped under the downpour, sighing in satisfaction when he was enveloped in the warm embrace. He could almost feel dried sweat being peeled off his skin like a second very-much-unwanted layer, and reached for the nearest product available to start lather himself. His mind automatically drifted back to the man outside and his line of thought earlier while his hands took care of the cleaning process.

He wasn't used to have someone to wake up with. It just felt weird, almost awkward, especially since he had _never_ had anyone next to him to wake up with – not counting that one time when Cagalli had waited on him after he had injured himself badly in a mobile suit fight, but then again she was his sister. As a result, his sleep had been rather restless and uneasy, although he couldn't say that he minded the rest which had subsequently followed. He liked the laugh, the teasing, the sense of contentment this man could bring out of him, the feeling that he was not alone.

Sometimes it made him wonder if he was really falling in love or it was simply his loneliness crying out for company.

To be fair, the second was better compared to the first, even if a little too pathetic to his liking. He didn't know _anything_ about this man he was sleeping with. All he had garnered so far from their brief encounters were the playful nature and total superiority complex. He particularly enjoyed seeing Kira squirm, even – especially – during sex. So far, Kira had no qualms in giving his blue-haired partner the control pad, but he was starting to feel that he was the one being fucked instead of the other way around. He had tried to even the ground a bit but the other clearly did not appreciate the idea, so his only choice was to lie low for the time being. Certainly there would be something he could do in the future.

 _If_ they had a future, that was.

Back to the original subject, he knew practically nothing. It was, of course, bad and more than a little complicated if the first scenario were to transpire, which either had already or soon would. Kira sighed and closed his eyes, basking himself under the warm rivulet one last time before turning it off.

It was not until he had dried himself with a clean towel that he realized what had been bugging him this entire time. The smell of the towel, the newly-opened, barely-used hair product and soap, the utter spotlessness of the whole bathroom, and finally, the importance of them all. It was clear that the bathroom was rarely used. _Very clean, but rarely used._ He felt like he was staying in a hotel instead of an ordinary house.

For a moment, Kira was ambushed by the trepidation that his partner was not who he seemed at all – although who he exactly was the general scarcely knew either. He had ideas, yes, and knew – or rather deduced from various tidbits of information he had managed to catch – that this was an important figure he was sleeping with, someone who was not only used to power, but also knew how to twist them. His best guess so far was either an heir of a big company or a son of a powerful politician. That the second was more probable than the first he had deciphered from the slightly military gait. It indicated that the blue-haired man had once been in the military, presumably ZAFT, since it was a widely-acknowledged fact that PLANT politicians had a habit of sending their sons and daughters to several years of military service.

_But._

But if his suspicion had any base at all, this might be a trap. After all, hadn't the other man literally _lured_ him at the party? What if he actually had been recognized and all of these were just a farce to trap him, to keep him away from his duty and his sister?

Kira shook his head. That was... well, certainly not impossible, but in his opinion improbable. There was something honest in the way his blue-haired partner acted, something desperate even, and he was not talking about that name fetish. Okay, so he was an Athrun Zala fanboy, but Kira had heard – seen – worse when it came to obsession. Still, it was not a crime to have any kind of fixation. He couldn't honestly feel that this man was dangerous. Intimidating perhaps, but not dangerous.

But anything was possible, right?

Having finished this long process of doubting and re-doubting his choice, the real gravity of the situation suddenly hit him. Kira saw his own eyes widening in the mirror and felt his chest tightening in pain. What the hell was he doing? Here he was, General Kira Yamato, Protector of ORB, fooling around with someone who might bring danger to himself and ORB. As a matter of fact, what was he doing fooling around at all?

He grimaced. Somehow the word 'fooling around' didn't ring true, and that was probably the one point he was afraid of the most. Not fooling around. What then?

Starting to fall in love?

Kira frowned and decided to leave it at that. Later. He would think about it again after he had established a reasonable distance between them. For now though, he had to get out of this bathroom first and face his... possible love interest.

After replacing his mask and securing the towel around his waist – just to make sure in case, you know, the other man threw a joke or two about his state of undress, which he couldn't really face with his currently impaired wits – Kira left the safe confine of the bathroom. He was relieved when he discovered that there was no one in the bedroom. Quickly, he located his clothes and slipped into them as his eyes used the chance to properly look at the clock on the nightstand and find out what time it was.

Almost half-past five. Time to carry out his promise.

He went out in search of his blue-haired partner, listening to the silence all around him. The house was quiet and it didn't seem that the neighbourhood had stirred fully to its early morning bustle, or perhaps it was due to the comfortable distance the residence maintained with its supposed neighbours. He had been somewhat awed when the cab had dropped him off in front of the house, snugly situated at a cul-de-sac with a vista toward an open pasture. It seemed to be a respectable environment, although he remembered passing a car with a pair of lovebirds cuddling at the backseat near the house.

The thought brought an involuntary smile to his lips. It was quite the same, really, with what he occasionally saw at ORB. Kira knew for sure that he, despite being the Ultimate Coordinator, was no different from his twin and the rest of ORB Natural population – except in certain aspects of course, but he couldn't really change those, could he? Whether the participants were Coordinators or Naturals, life seemed to advance in a relatively similar manner, be it on Earth or at PLANT. Somehow it made him believe that there was still hope for their plan, even if just a little.

Meanwhile, his feet were still trying to do the tracking and it was in the kitchen where he finally located his elusive partner. The blue-haired man was bending toward the refrigerator with one arm holding the door open. Kira was grateful to see that he had properly covered himself with a dressing gown – which might be black or dark blue, he couldn't be sure in this kind of lighting – even if the material was thin enough to detail every curve and outline.

"I thought you said you'd let me do the cooking?" he spoke up first when the other didn't give any sign of noticing his arrival.

"I'm only making sure that there are enough ingredients," the answer came readily enough and Kira was forced to reconsider his earlier assumption. The figure in black turned around and looked at him questioningly. "Are you sure you want to do the cooking yourself?"

Kira put a hand on the counter and the other on his hips. "Is that an expression of civility or distrust to my skill?"

"A little bit of both." A nonchalant smile entered, brightened by a flicker of amusement. "Okay then, let's see if you can impress me with your culinary skill."

"Certainly, Sir."

"Athrun."

"What?" Kira asked automatically, puzzled. In front of him, the emerald eyes seemed to have darkened somehow. Or was it only a trick of light?

"Call me 'Athrun'."

Feeling the slight change in the atmosphere, he quickly backed down, his raised eyebrows the only testimony to his doubt. "Uh, okay. Sure."

And then it was gone, just like with a snap of fingers, quick and thoroughly unexpected. The other man smiled at him, not unlike a parent who had just decided to indulge his child in sweets for once. Kira inwardly cringed at the mental image.

"So what do you call me again?"

"Athrun," he said obligingly, hiding his growing puzzlement. Very astonishing, these mood swings and fetishes, but Kira refrained himself from making further comments. By the time he got back, Cagalli would certainly wonder since when her brother, the powerful and supposedly-unbeatable general of ORB, had been reduced to this submissive little boy who could never deny his partner anything.

"Mm, yes, I like that."

Especially when he smiled like _that._

Really, how the mighty had fallen.

Kira resisted an urge to groan and tried to ignore the two armies of emotions which were exchanging serious blows inside him. Instead, he fixed the blue-haired man a flat look. "You are obsessed."

His partner looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Jealous?"

"Not in the slightest," he smiled tightly and had enough reflex to quickly add when the other man seemed ready to throw another rejoinder if there was any open silence. "And by the way, you may want to take a bath first before playing judge to my cooking. You know, to give me some times to actually cook."

"Coward."

Kira only gave him a _look_. He didn't feel that he needed to refute the comment. It was, after all, true. There was no way he could concentrate on cooking when there were other things which constantly stole his whole attention and were evidently more thought-consuming standing within ten-inch perimeter.

He only allowed himself to breathe easily when the other man had disappeared toward the bedroom with a promise to return as soon as possible. The house once more slipped into a steady rhythm of silence and Kira let the unbound feeling to wash over him, soothing bundles of nerves which were on the verge of exploding. The silence allowed him to reflect about the situation and sort those swirling emotions back to their respectable places, adequately placated.

Okay. Done that.

As his hands began to sift through the menagerie of ingredients laid out on the counter mechanically, his mind started analyzing his sorted emotions in a similar fashion. First of all, there had been the stirring of desire but of course it was hardly surprising – being in the same room with his blue-haired partner seemed to automatically do that to him. And then the embarrassment, which again was rather predictable. He was not innocent when it came to sex, but he doubted if even the most experienced playboy could easily deal with the heavy innuendos and constant flirting the other man was throwing. Embarrassment was perfectly justified in this case.

Kira wondered if such aptitude came from practice, but quickly flung the thought out of the window since it made him feel uncomfortable all of a sudden.

His hands had finished cutting the chicken and now were turning their attention to various kinds of vegetables. What was he making again? Right, omelette rice and stir-fried vegetables.

As he dealt with carrots and cabbages, his mind continued translating the list of emotions. After embarrassment, came the tricky ones. The toned-down anger, sharp humiliation, blistering indignation and other hostile assortments which quickly fueled his vigour in mutilating the vegetables into tiny slices. Kira didn't mind losing control every now and then – growing up with Cagalli had made certain of that – but the amount of submission he had endured, voluntarily or not, in the company of his current partner seriously offended his manly pride. Like last night, during the second session when he had been plainly reduced to _begging_.

Yeah. Begging. As in _please, please, please, I'll do anything, oh yes please._

His dignity practically screamed. _What the hell made you follow his every whim? Are you his boytoy or something?_

Even if they made his blood boil and his head spin, Kira didn't really have an answer to those questions. Maybe he was bewitched, although what with the perks of being the Ultimate Coordinator and all, one would assume that he should have the immunity to this kind of things too. Some kind of voodoo maybe.

The thought almost sent him to a giggling fit. Really, what was he considering? He couldn't remember if he had ever resorted to blaming creepy magic for his problems but then again, he had sunk low enough without taking such course. And better to focus to the task at hand, Kira sternly told himself, desperate for any kind of distraction. Vegetables obviously didn't fry themselves.

That concentration, however, had only lasted for less than ten seconds before he found said task hopelessly unchallenging. Like every other field he cared to put his finger on, cooking had been an easy feat for him since he had learned the finer techniques from his old babysitter despite his sister's astonishment. Cagalli had declared that she had no interest in mastering this field, but being the food connoisseur that she was, she had volunteered to help by tasting the result of his experiments. Naturally, she hadn't been disappointed.

Sometimes he wished that his quick grasp in everything extended to the art of flirting.

Kira kept his eyes down to the pan when suddenly his ears caught an unmistakable sound coming from the direction of the bedroom door. Aware that he was being watched, he breathed in deeply, relishing the faint tremor of fear that flashed down his spine. It felt like waiting to be pounced on by a predator, a very beautiful but dangerous predator that was. The lithe figure gracefully made his way across the room, round the counter and finally stopped behind him. In spite of the anticipation, Kira was still surprised when an arm snaked around his waist and a chin rested on his shoulder.

"I must admit that I'm impressed," the familiar voice remarked, dangerously close to his ear as the smell of soap reached his nose.

"Wait until you have a taste," he replied quietly, still not looking at the other man. This behaviour was apparently deemed inappropriate because another hand suddenly slinked up and took a firm hold of his chin. Kira made a move to protest – he was in the middle of a very delicate process of flipping his omelette – when suddenly a kiss was pressed onto his lips.

He almost dropped the frying pan.

The blue-haired man withdrew with a satisfied smile, confident that he had literally taken Kira's breath away, a fact the victim obviously could not deny even if he could get his jaw to work right now. Kira barely registered the same hand gently rearranging his fingers on the pan's handle and turning his head back to the right direction. The project to reunite his divorced mind and body seemed too immense to undertake, especially with his scattered brain.

He contemplated if things would continue happening this way. Because if they were, there might not be much Kira Yamato left in the end of the journey.

"You okay?" A concerned voice woke him up from his contemplation. Kira sobered slightly, remembering his self-appointed task, and looked down.

"I'm still cooking," he murmured, completely awed by the fact that the frying pan was still in his hand somehow even if the egg had started to collect many black spots overall its surface.

"Yes, and I'm sure you'll manage somehow," was the casual reply as a not-so-casual kiss was dropped on his neck. Kira actually believed that for a split of a second, but was forced to reassess his opinion when a hand slipped past beneath his shirt. He turned off the stove and whirled around, looking fiercely at his partner.

"If you keep doing that, I will abandon every attempt to cook and I guarantee you that we will be doing something else other than eating in the next sixty minutes."

To his dismay, that only earned him a twinkle in green eyes. "Sounds tempting," the other man told him as his fingers slithered down Kira's forearm, leaving a trail of blazing fire in their wake. The latter felt that this was enough and yanked the black dressing gown forward so he could wrap an arm around that sinfully slender body and silence that grinning mouth. The idea of cooking had fled to an untraceable corner of his mind, leaving him vulnerable to the burning assault of need.

He didn't care anymore. God, he just wanted to–

"But I'm starving," the blue-haired man mumbled when Kira reached the juncture of his neck, hands still fisting the front of his shirt tightly. The general pulled back and gave him what he felt an appropriate glare.

"Do you know that you _are_ being contradictive?"

He was rewarded with a small smile and a reassuring kiss. "We'll still have time for eating later. Come on."

The next scene was quick to develop, involving him sans his shirt, the blue-haired man on top of him and a comfortably large couch. Such things like manly pride and dignity no longer occurred to Kira as he eagerly met his partner's lips halfway, both desperate for more contact. His hands roamed lower and lower, only stopping momentarily when they arrived at the dressing gown's trimmed end. They hesitated for the briefest moment before venturing inside, tasting the feeling of silky skin on rough, battle-worn tips.

Kira sucked in a gasping breath when the other man shifted, looking for a more comfortable position to shower attention to his neck. His head was heavy with desire and with each second there were more and more of his sensitive skin being nipped and licked and touched. A low groan of approval disrupted their breathless pace as his slightly trembling hand continued to follow the soft contour of long, lean legs up and up still until...

...nothing.

Kira froze.

"You're not..." he faltered and stared, the rest of his words dying a quick, sudden, painless death. The neural links that connected his mouth to his brain seemed to have entirely dissolved in the light of this new discovery.

"Yes?" The one syllable was uttered oh-so-smoothly, glazed eyes dancing with barely suppressed amusement. Kira couldn't help but to think that this entire scene had been carefully planned, especially with the lack of underclothing.

Now thoroughly assured that this blue-haired man was the most dangerous person he had ever met, he decided that the best course of action for now was to continue what he had been doing. They started kissing again as his fingers worked to unravel a simple knot tying his partner's only clothing. It came off easily, exposing more pearly skin for him to worship and focus on. His fingers were exploring intimate places shamelessly, eliciting more small breathless moans and Kira actually felt that he was gaining the upper hand when–

–fate suddenly interfered and decided that he should not taste victory just yet.

Somewhere nearby, a phone _rang_.

"Ignore it," the blue-haired man growled when Kira stopped his careful ministration.

"Are you sure it isn't important?" he asked, hesitant but wanting to give in very much.

Cursing under his breath, the other man reached just above his head to retrieve a grey cordless phone. Kira closed his eyes and tried to not get angry himself, as he absentmindedly listened to his partner's curt replies. Someone up there must hate him very much. Why else would that call come in this early in the morning? The sun had not even risen!

It was not long until the conversation ended – thankfully – and his pissed-off company threw the receiver to another couch. "I have to go in half-an-hour," he announced, sounding petulant.

Well, that just wrapped it up, didn't it? Feeling supremely disappointed, Kira made a move to rise, mumbling, "Okay then–"

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere." Two pale hands pushed him back down to the couch and green eyes glared at him, daring him to move away. Kira gaped.

"I thought you said–"

"In half-an-hour," the blue-haired man stated, enunciating each syllable. "I didn't say anything about not continuing this and _you_ are going to finish what you've started."

"Last time I looked, it was you who–"

That luscious mouth caught his lips again and Kira quickly lost any desire to argue over such trifling point.

 

\---

 

"...in the meantime, I have taken the liberty to share information regarding our situation with..."

Athrun had always known that he had some sort of 'sixth sense'. It was admittedly useful at times – he didn't need his eyes to know things, how cool was that – but right now he just wished that his so-called 'sixth sense' could stop bothering him and let him listen to Lacus in peace.

Those little glances were driving him mad.

After being the chairman of the Supreme Council for two years, he knew that he should have been used to any kind of surreptitious glances already. After all, putting up with attention, unwanted or not, was a part of the job. He had developed some immunity, yes, but it was a great deal different if the one who was shooting him these glances was his own friend.

His own currently-not-so-friendly friend.

Which was not unexpected, he reflected mournfully, after what Dearka had told him this morning.

If there was anyone he should describe as perceptive, Athrun certainly would not pick Yzak Jule. Instead of tactfulness, he controlled the National Defense Committee with lists of rules and ironclad orders, much like the way he had run his ship on his earlier days. The chairman wasn't about to complain when the result was evidently better than he had expected but... now he was digressing from the point.

The point was Yzak gave him a headache.

No, it was his own stupidity that gave him the headache. Stupidity – no other word for it. The glances themselves weren't obvious, but unfortunately Athrun had the superiority of his sixth-sense. Yzak was normally looking at Lacus, but there were times when he would throw a glance around the office – for what purpose the chairman didn't have the slightest idea – and those cold blue eyes would rest on him a shade longer than anything else in the room. That action in itself might be nothing, but he still had not overcome this festering guilt, knowing that his sole existence had reduced any semblance of friendship his two friends might still be able to cultivate, into bitter jealousy-laden enmity. Dearka had not displayed any objection but since Yzak was now in the picture as someone who knew–

...see? That glance _again_.

"However, to maintain this link of communication and dispel any prejudices which may have bloomed between our two nations, I strongly feel that..."

While one part of his brain kept an attentive ear to Lacus's clear but gentle voice, the rest had made it their business to abuse his conscience in such a level that it made him wonder if he wasn't actually voicing those agonized sounds instead of imagining them at the back of his mind. He had been an idiot through and through. He should have been able to see that Yzak still loved Dearka, that despite having a fiancée, there were traces of old affection lingering still. He had befriended Yzak for _years_. He should have known.

Athrun's eyes flickered toward Dearka who had his full attention on the councilwoman. He knew for sure that his dark-skinned friend still harboured some of those feelings himself, but had buried them deep in the face of Yzak's constant rejection. He felt the bit of guilt swelling drastically. He enjoyed Dearka's company, yes, and there was nothing like excellent sex after a particularly stressful day, and it wasn't as if this 'thing' between them wasn't personally approved by the commander himself. Still...

That was when the small part of his brain which had been listening to Lacus told him that she had finished reading. Athrun quickly banished any other thought from his mind and nodded at the pink-haired woman.

"It's perfect, Lacus. The wording isn't too aggressive, but still straight enough. No one will be able to twist our meaning there."

The councilwoman only smiled at this commendation. She looked as impeccable as always, but he was certain that she had spent the better half of the night preparing and plotting the reply. Lacus was a perfectionist. Be it a confidential letter to ORB or a public speech, she wouldn't stop working on it until she felt that she had really nailed it. The result, doubtless, was impressive, but Athrun knew that he had to be diplomatic in this matter, especially toward a certain white-haired councilman.

He turned his gaze to the other two men in the room and inquired, "Satisfactory enough, gentlemen? Or is there anything else we need to add?"

By the way he clenched his jaw, Athrun suspected that Yzak was exercising a lot of self-control to keep his mouth shut. He almost frowned at this. As if to make up for the ruckus he had caused yesterday, today his friend was giving him the silent treatment. If he didn't look at it from too many angles, the action was actually endearing in a way, if a little too blunt. Simple equivalent trade: excess should be balanced by scarcity. Yesterday too many words, today no word at all.

Yzak was hopeless. Seriously.

 _Deal with your problem one at a time,_ he reminded himself and restored his focus back to present time. Neither man offered any comment, so he concluded that the letter was adequate and turned to Lacus. She handed him the document, and after he had added his signature, took it again to slip it into a perfectly inconspicuous envelope. This, afterwards, she gave to Dearka.

"When will you have to meet this person from ORB?" Athrun asked the ZAFT commander.

"This evening, Sir."

"I believe you know what to do."

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded and proceeded to address all of them. "I'm aware that a lot of people are going to raise objections once this is out in the open, but I know we are going in the right direction. If we are able to get this right, there will be hope for peace at last. This is a delicate matter, I know, and fairly uncertain up to this point. Of course we still have to handle it as discreet as possible, but I personally think that we have to start including some of our other top dignitaries."

There was a moment of silence before Lacus voiced her opinion softly, "I agree with you, Sir, but I prefer that we break the news to them after we receive the answer to this one. There is no point in causing ruckus when we still have nothing certain in mind."

Athrun considered this point and nodded faintly before turning to his white-haired friend, almost flinching at the sharpness in his eyes. "Yzak?"

"I have no objection either," the reply was stiff, impersonal.

"Very well then," he decided. "After Dearka receives the answer, we will try talking with the head of other committees first, and then the remaining member of the Council. Subsequently, there will be a public announcement but that, of course, depends on the situation between us and ORB at that time. Until then, it's only between the four of us."

The others nodded in various degrees of somberness and Athrun rose from his seat, making a point to smile. "Thank you everyone. And Dearka, a moment please."

And that, of course, earned him another strip of the infamous glances from Councilman Jule.

 _One at a time_ , Athrun repeated silently. He waited for the others to file out and the door to slide shut before speaking to the blonde commander. "I want you to imply to them that a meeting is in order. We need something to set this 'relationship' in stone, but don't let them think that it will be a weakness of ours if they refuse to do so. Do you think you can do that?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"I trust you. And don't forget, leave the ball in their court."

A reassuring smile appeared on Dearka's face. "Don't worry, I can handle it."

"I know but... God, I don't know why I'm so nervous," Athrun ran a tense hand through his hair. Okay, so this was the most important decision he had – and possibly would have too, judging from the scale – ever made in his whole career, not to mention, the most dangerous and possibly suicidal. However, it was the more reason for him to stay calm. He heaved a deep breath and looked at the other man again, still unable to keep the worry out of his voice. "But seriously, you have to make sure that they understand the importance of a definite answer."

"Yes, you have said that."

"We need proof, something tangible–"

"Hey," a hand clasped his shoulder and suddenly his friend's deep purple eyes were very close. "I _know_ what I have to do. You trust me, don't you?"

Athrun shot him a thin smirk. "Maybe."

"Yeah, that really does a lot to boost my morale, thank you very much."

He only chuckled, not finding it in himself to invent any reply at the moment when something had just become suddenly obvious to him. The revelation had been sudden but oddly unsurprising. A little uncanny perhaps, but Athrun had long since learned not to be surprised about things concerning himself.

Of all people for him to get into bed with, he had to choose two with the same eye colour.

How creepy was that.

On second inspection, they were not exactly identical. Dearka's eyes were of a duller shade of violet, or probably they only appeared so in contrast with his brown skin. They also conveyed less to him, careful to keep any treacherous emotion hidden, no doubt courtesy of knowing him and his tendency to manipulate so well. But he still remembered how the same eyes would darken, barriers collapsing into mere ruins of their former glory, leaving sharp emotions bare for the world to see at that one exact moment. It didn't always happen every time they slept together since most of the times those eyes would be hidden from view, either by their lids or because Dearka was burying his face on the pillow or at the crook of his neck. But when he did see them, it felt like...

He would use the phrase 'touching souls' if it didn't make him cringe.

Whatever it was, Athrun realized that it went straight to his heart. The feeling made him feel afraid, afraid that he had stepped over a line somewhere and the damage would be irreparable. There was a reason why sex was considered to be very intimate – apart from the obvious. This must be it.

"You should tell Asuka, by the way," Dearka suddenly spoke again, almost making him jump in surprise.

"About what?"

"This thing we have with ORB. Those radical groups will be out for your blood once they hear about it."

"Well, that's true enough," he paused momentarily, considering this new point. "But I'm not sure if that is necessary. It's one of the bigger risks, I know, but the fewer people in the know, the better."

However, Dearka was nothing but insistent when he had had his mind sufficiently made up. "If you're worried about leaks, just tell him that he cannot share this information with anyone else," he said. "God only knows what sort of excuse he can come up with to blame himself if something happens to you because he's caught unprepared."

Athrun smiled at that but shook his head. "He's worried enough about my security. I see no point in getting him more worked-up than he already is."

"All the same–"

"Oh, all right," the chairman gave in with an irritated sigh, not wanting to argue about something this irrelevant at the moment. Preferably not ever. "I will tell him once we get the reply. Satisfied?"

Dearka grinned at him. "Ecstatic."

That was, Athrun thought sullenly, one of the drawbacks of sleeping with someone under his command. While the dark-skinned commander maintained a degree of respectability in front of others, it was evidently not the case when they were alone. And to his own luck – or lack thereof, in this case– these acts of insubordination seemed to get only worse and worse by the day.

Strangely, he didn't hate it.

The intercom on his desk hummed, breaking the silence in the room, and Athrun reached out to answer. It was Meyrin's calm, efficient voice that answered to his inquiring 'yes?'.

"Sir, it's time."

"Right, I'll be out in a minute," he spoke to the line before killing it. Dearka was looking at him with raised eyebrows and he waved a dismissive hand. "You don't want to know."

"I really wish you would stop assuming things about me," the commander murmured in an unhappy tone.

Athrun paused in the middle of tidying his desk and stared at the other man. A long silence, thick like freshly-made butter, stretched between them, which he then knifed with an incredulous question.

"Are you moping?"

"Am Not."

"Oh. God. You really _are_ moping."

The blonde didn't bother to deign it with an answer.

Athrun lifted one hand to massage his forehead and heaved a deep breath. "You seriously want to know? Fine. A lunch with my dear head of administrative office, whom I unfortunately will have to kiss and pamper until he agrees to do whatever I want him to."

His friend snickered, his former mood returning fast. "Ghastly."

"My point exactly. I shall die from boredom one of these days."

"Have faith in yourself.," Dearka smiled a grin which might seem encouraging if only it wasn't so roguish. "I know from personal experience that your skill in kissing and pampering is unparalleled."

Athrun managed an imperious glance although his insides were bursting with glee. "You forget the petting and sucking part," he told the other man haughtily.

"And here I am thinking that you save them exclusively for my personal enjoyment," the quick riposte came with a dramatic sigh.

Suddenly those glances were coming back to him. Icy-blue eyes – upset, angry, hurt; they pierced him like thousands of daggers would. The guilt resurfaced, an almost dull ache now but still with power strong enough to practically split his mind in two. One half was saying _stand back, you fool,_ but the other whispered angrily, _he has no right!_

No right at all. He was the one who left Dearka to break down alone.

But.

Athrun drew in a shaky breath. He felt lost. He didn't know where he stood in this. Fun and pleasure only, strictly casual; that was the unspoken pact between them. Neither had minded and if their reasons in pursuing this 'relationship' were different, no one had cared. Maybe it was purely for the sake of forgetting for Dearka, no matter how fleeting and false the respites were, and Athrun had to admit that his motive was no less self-centered. Since only-God-knows-when, there had been this gaping hole of loneliness in his chest, one he had desperately tried to fill whenever he could although his own prudence had greatly limited such possible occasion.

Until this one chance had appeared around the corner and offered itself to his face. A perfect chance. He didn't have to feel guilty for sleeping with one of his closest friends since there was mutualism in this. Both of them had agreed.

But it was _supposed_ to be a mere agreement. Feelings shouldn't come into play in this.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Athrun made a decision and looked up to catch the other man's eyes. "Dearka, there is something we must talk about," he said, grateful that his voice sounded at least normal.

"Now? I thought you have someone to kiss and pamper on your schedule."

"Not now. Later. Or maybe tomorrow. Whenever you're available."

"Let's see," the blonde put a hand under his chin, feigning a profound contemplation. "I have family matters to attend to until Wednesday – I really wish my mother will stop trying to get me married, but yeah, I guess it's the express duty of sons in general to suffer their mother's creepy ideas in silence. But after that you may have me at your beck and call until Saturday."

Athrun allowed a thin smile to grace his features at this long-suffering comment. "You know your mother won't give up until you've fulfilled her wish."

"So I must simply bow to her wishes and spare no glance to mine?"

"The girls aren't so bad," he pointed out and when his taller friend made a slighting sound in his throat, fixed him with a firm look. "I know you like girls too, so don't try that line with me. They're pretty – you showed me the pictures yourself – and well-connected – your mother made sure of that – and some of them are actually rather fun to talk to. You only have to pick one."

Dearka sighed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes when he said, "Well, I kinda hope that if I _really_ have to marry, it'll be with a girl I've never slept with."

They looked at each other for a long time, one in silent amusement while the other in pure horror. After what felt like one agonizing hour, Athrun finally found his voice again, scraped with incredulity. "You _didn't_."

"Oh yes, I did," the reply was casual, almost nonchalant. "I just made it a point never to tell you the real extent of my conquest."

Athrun gave him a deadpan look. "That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard."

"And yet you love me. Ah, how this charm of mine burdens me so."

"Dearka."

"Yes, m'dear?"

"You didn't."

The dark-skinned man raised his brow and finally sighed, relenting. "Okay, you win. I didn't. Only about half of them."

Despite the urge to groan at this most-likely-honest admission, the chairman settled with a helpless rolling of eyes. "I really don't know what I should do with you."

The smile he got in return was best described as a leer. "Well, I can think of some interesting things you'll want to do with me," his friend said, nudging his arm as if to emphasize his point. Athrun batted the intruding hand away.

"Seriously, why don't you want to get married?"

"And deprive the world of its finest bachelor? I think not."

" _Randiest_ bachelor is more likely," he snorted, earning himself a flash of charming grin from the other man. "You are doing our society a favor by binding yourself and your unquenchable urges in matrimony."

"Ah, it may be the case, but it isn't quite true to my nature, is it?"

But Athrun wasn't sure that it _was_ the case. He had seen Dearka, more than a year ago, very much in love with Yzak and very ready to commit himself had his lover only asked for it. He wouldn't have admitted it out loud, of course, but there it had been, plain and clear for anyone with or without eyes to see.

In the end, there had been an engagement, yes, but it was very different with what everyone had in mind. Except Ezaria's maybe.

He really had to talk to someone. Yes, Nicol might just be the right person.

Wrenching his mind away from those thoughts, Athrun returned to his present subject and told the taller man, "I'll let you know again on Wednesday. We should be able to find some time by then. Now I have that lunch and ORB to think about."

Dearka only nodded and they both made their way silently toward the door. He was reaching out for the push button to open the door when another hand wrapped itself around his fingers, effectively stopping the motion. Athrun wasn't sure if he had the chance to feel surprised at the action when it was followed by a chaste kiss to his lips. Again, before he could comprehend what was happening, his dark-skinned friend had pulled back and now was staring at him with a cocky grin on his face.

"What was that for?" he asked, more taken aback than curious at the sudden kiss.

"Good luck charm," Dearka said with a shrug. "Who knows if my tongue suddenly chooses to disagree with me and speak the wrong thing at the wrong time and thus put our whole nation in jeopardy."

The chairman closed his eyes and counted until ten before opening them again, giving the other man a blank look. "All right. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you off the job right now."

"You mean besides being the sexiest man you have ever laid your eyes on and not to mention, the only one who knows _who_ the liaison officer is?"

"The first is irrelevant."

"Hardly. As a matter of fact, it can be very helpful if I need to charm my way with our contact."

"Dearka–"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to screw up." The taller man leant in and for one petrifying moment, Athrun thought that he was about to be kissed again. But the other only smirked at him and raised his hand to push the button behind him, the door opening with a faint hiss. "Now why don't you focus your attention to the amiable Councilman Vasner?"

The chairman made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "Go away," he ordered, "and for god's sakes don't jeopardize our cause."

"Whatever my chairman wishes," Dearka made a mock bow before stepping out of the office and making his way down the hall. Athrun stared at his back for a few moments and then decided that talking to Nicol would be a top priority in his to-do list before everything went out of hand. His old friend knew the three of them well, quite possibly better than the persons involved themselves due to his empathic nature, but he wasn't so sure how the talented pianist would react to the news about him and Dearka.

 _One at a time,_ Athrun repeated to himself for possibly the hundredth time that day and approached his secretary's desk.

"Meyrin, when will Nicol finish his tour?"

  
_**End Chapter 4  
** _


	5. Chapter 5

  
There had been many situations Nicol Amalfi, twenty-one years old, had found himself sharing with his old friend Athrun Zala. They had their laughing moments between two best friends, their dangerous moments in the battlefield, their awkward moments when one of them had offended the other, but this, he decided, was one he had never experienced before.

There was one moment he remembered which had been vaguely similar. During their two years of military service together, he had once discovered Athrun together with Rusty McKenzie, his roommate on ship, engaged in an activity far beyond friendly or innocent. That evening, Athrun had finally confessed to him that his preferences lay not at the other end of the spectrum, but if this fact bothered him... Nicol had quickly denied it. He had been surprised – shocked, really – but not repulsed by the idea. Their friendship wouldn't change, he had told his blue-haired friend earnestly, only because now he knew one more thing about him he hadn't before.

This current situation reminded Nicol of that conversation. The difference was back then, he had made himself acquainted with the issue beforehand, although not in a way he would have preferred. This time, he had not the faintest idea.

Two days ago he had received a phone call from his girlfriend, who was also Athrun's secretary, telling him that the chairman wanted to meet him. Despite having just returned from a concert tour in Februarius and Martius, he had readily accepted an invitation for lunch. No matter what the actual purpose of this visit was, he would always be glad to see an old friend again.

Now that he was here, sitting opposite Athrun in the dining room of the chairman's residence, Nicol still couldn't guess. His friend looked a little troubled, a little tired, but it could be the strain from work for all he knew. Running a country while trying to maintain a fragile peace was not exactly an easy job.

Overall, he had nothing to complain about. The food was excellent, the room pleasantly warm and their conversations so far enjoyable. They had talked about a handful of mundane things during appetizer, and he had carefully skirted around any topic related to politics, not because he was uninterested, but because his friend looked like he could do without it for a little while. And then he had told Athrun about his tour along with the stupid mistake his fingers had _almost_ made during Chopin's Fantaisie Impromptu in his last concert. In turn, his friend had recounted an incident involving Lacus and her most recent stalker which had almost resulted in her suing the perverted man.

Basically, Athrun had told him nothing about himself.

Nicol appraised the situation for a few moments and then decided to act. If his friend couldn't bring himself to broach the real subject, he might as well do it himself. He swallowed the last bit of his grilled chicken, washed it down with a few sips of red wine, and looked squarely at the man in front of him.

"Well?"

Athrun raised uneasy emerald eyes to meet his inquiring gaze. "Well what?"

"What do you want to talk about? Usually I'll wait until dessert, but my curiosity is killing me right now."

Looking only faintly surprised by this sudden approach, his friend said with a frown, "Nicol, are you implying that I invite you for lunch only because I want something from you? What if I just want to meet you for old time's sakes?"

The pianist smiled slightly. "I know, but to be honest I don't think it's the case this time. You sounded quite desperate on the phone."

The frown cleared up a bit, but Athrun remained silent as his fingers traced the stem of his wineglass. Nicol waited patiently, used to this kind of slow progress every time he tried to wring out a morsel of information his friend hesitated to share. It was a good thing that he had resigned from the army to pursue his own dreams. Athrun, he thought to himself, needed a friend, not a willing subordinate. Unfortunately, most of his friends were also working under him, which made them unable to fully function as a friend when it came to normal relationship. There would always be a line there they couldn't quite cross, but this line, he realized, didn't really exist between him and the chairman. He didn't work for Athrun.

His patience was rewarded not too long after when his friend finally looked at him again. "I'll admit that I need your help," he said with a sigh, "but the rest can wait until dessert. Now why don't you tell me about yourself and Meyrin."

Nicol raised his eyebrows at this obvious change of subject, but decided to play along. "We are fine," he answered, easily evading the real question insinuated by the request. "Meyrin has a new hobby now – bonsais, but maybe you already know. She's very enthusiastic about them, but lately she's a bit off, like there is something else that occupies her mind."

"Nothing bad, I hope?" the chairman lifted his eyebrows, seeming concerned. "Do you know what it is?"

"You."

Athrun stopped fiddling with the glass. "Me?" he looked flabbergasted.

"Yes," Nicol replied unhesitatingly, looking straight into his friend's astonished green eyes. "She said you hadn't been eating right, that you overworked yourself. And then she got this little tidbit from your housekeeper that you hadn't been resting well either and naturally that failed to put her at ease."

"Oh."

"It's true then?"

"It's nothing," Athrun quickly said, a stubborn note entering his voice. "You know, I just... I have a lot in my mind."

Nicol shook his head disapprovingly. "No excuses. You should know better than letting your mood interfere in something as important as eating and sleeping. And you better finish that," he said, nodding toward the half-finished chicken on Athrun's plate.

"You sound just like Meyrin," his friend said with a half smirk. "Things starting to rub off?"

"Don't try to change the subject again," the pianist warned, trying to hide a blush that was threatening to show on his face at the implication. Athrun made a mock-pout at him but picked his knife and fork again obediently.

Nicol watched his friend picking on his food in silence, Meyrin's words swirling in his head. Something had happened, she had said with a frown, but she didn't know what. Could he do anything about it?

Nicol had promised her that he would ask Athrun – and do everything within his power to get an answer, as long as none of them landed him in prison. He had long since accepted the fact that his girlfriend had once loved his blue-haired friend. This was actually the reason why they had become close in the first place – that and the fact that Meyrin was absolutely in love with his playing. Now it was he who held her affection, but even though her adolescent crush had matured to a deep, unshakable loyalty, her habit to observe the chairman remained. That was why she noticed these little changes.

There was a big possibility that she was right. Nicol still remembered the stubborn, idealistic pilot his friend once had been. Except his political views and beliefs, Athrun had rarely shared anything with anybody, even his closest friends. He would suffer his trials and tribulations in silence and sort them out gradually by himself. That was how he dealt with his problems, had been since years ago and most likely would still be in the future.

But missing meals and forgetting to eat? Somehow Nicol found them strange. Even he who had pursued a career entirely unrelated to ZAFT had never been able to go against what years of military training had instilled him. Whatever the condition was, keeping one's body in shape was the foremost a soldier had to keep in mind, eclipsed only by direct orders. Even during a battle, they had to remember that without a body that functioned perfectly, they would be unable to fight at all.

To think that Athrun had disregarded this was _unthinkable_. He was constantly surrounded by military figures, three of whom were his close friends, and enough people who had made it their business to watch over his well-being. Cooped up in this environment which demanded his continuous attention, he must be aware that he couldn't afford any absence. The smallest lapse of judgment could send him to eternal regret and self-condemnation, especially knowing his tendency to blame himself.

But Meyrin was worried and Nicol couldn't say that he wasn't too.

The sound of cutlery being set with a final note on the plate distracted him from his thoughts. Nicol looked up and found Athrun looking at him solemnly, grim determination in his eyes. "I can't have another bite," he announced, for once sounding far less mature than he normally was.

Nicol could feel his frown deepening. "You usually handle stress better than this," he commented, hoping that his friend would rise to the bait and explain.

"Maybe I'm losing my touch," Athrun said with a small noncommittal smile. "Besides, there are still desserts, right?"

Nicol wanted to say something else but a tug from his instinct made him reconsider. Once more, he steered the conversation away from work and filled the silence by telling Athrun about the offer he had gotten from a movie producer to star in a music-based film. When they had moved to dessert, he was relieved to see that his friend had relaxed a bit, although he suspected that a different kind of thought was still flurrying inside that head. After knowing him for so long, it was hard for Nicol not to suspect a little about everything.

If he had to choose a word which contradicted the other man the most, the pianist would choose 'simple'. He had never met anyone more complicated in his life, either in the way his mind worked or the way things revolved around him. Athrun seemed to complicate things only by breathing and existing, which in Nicol's opinion was a very rare talent. Luckily, the young chairman had developed a method to deal with that many problems surrounding him one by one. This was also one of the reasons why he had won that race for the seat two years ago.

But Nicol was still worried. Like that time, when an enemy ship had shot Rusty's mobile suit down a few weeks after their conversation. He was glad that he had discovered them before, because although Athrun had said that it didn't really matter – they were soldiers, he was prepared to face something like this – his green eyes had painted an entirely different picture. If he hadn't known, he wouldn't have been able to understand the real extent of his friend's grief.

Maybe he couldn't do anything to help solve the problem – after all, death was death – but he could stay. And listen. And stay.

He knew that it was _the_ moment when they had gone through dessert and Athrun locked their gazes together through thin vapours rising from cups of coffee. "I will tell you now," he said, his expression strained but resolute, "but please don't interrupt me or I'll lose my wits."

Nicol complied and stayed silent throughout the narration. The first time Dearka's name was mentioned, he could already feel that this would be far from good, and Athrun, true to his perfectionist nature, didn't disappoint him.

It was like, _light-years_ away from good.

Being their comrade-in-arms, he was not unfamiliar with the state of the relationship between Dearka and Yzak – their love, uncertainties, and then their painful breakup and even more painful evading-each-other routine they had fallen into. What was new for him was this mutual symbiosis which had seemed to develop between Dearka and Athrun after the breakup. He still remembered. It was a period when he hadn't been able to stay close to his friends due to a succession of concerts after concerts.

And, Nicol realized guiltily, back then he had just begun his own relationship Meyrin. His whole attention had been focused on her, with a quarter or so spared for his full agenda. None of his friends had come to him, so he simply assumed that everything was going well and old wounds were healing just fine.

Well, apparently he was wrong.

Nicol resisted an urge to sigh deeply when Athrun had finished speaking and now was waiting for his reaction. The problem was, he didn't know what to say. Of all the possible reasons for inviting him to the residence, this was certainly not among the three-hundreds or so he had guessed.

In the end, he settled for a question.

"Okay, what do you want to do now?"

A grim look settled on the chairman's face and he tapped a finger anxiously on the table. "I don't know," he replied, desperation transparent in his voice. "This... _thing_ hurts us all. I don't like doing this to Yzak, but I'm not sure what to do with Dearka either. I really don't know."

Nicol gave him a sharp, perceptive glance. "I need to know this first: are you in love with him?"

"No," Athrun answered quickly – too quickly, in Nicol's opinion, but he said nothing. "And I'm not going to. I already put myself in enough mess without having to face that one." He paused for a moment and then added with a softer voice, "Besides, there is someone else."

"Someone else?" Nicol echoed in mounting confusion, unsure if he had missed the mentioning of this other someone in the story earlier.

"You don't want to know," Athrun gave him a small humorless smile. "Anyway, it's not really relevant. The point is I don't want to keep doing this. It's starting to affect our work and there is no guarantee that it won't become worse in the future. The problem is Yzak will never go against Ezaria's wish because he loves her too much. And Dearka is already too stubborn at this point to do anything."

"Well, it did seem like Yzak really thought nothing of him when they broke up," Nicol admitted reluctantly.

"Exactly," his friend heaved a deep sigh and stared down at his coffee. "He... is more vulnerable than he lets on, you know?"

Nicol was unable to find anything to say for a long time. The tone Athrun was using struck him as strange and he suspected that there was more to it than he could decipher at the moment. Storing this information for later study, he moved on with his list of questions.

"Do they really still love each other?"

Athrun gave him a look which said that the question was rhetorical at best, but the pianist was still unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's obvious," the other finally answered. "Get them in the same room for five minutes and you'll see for yourself."

Nicol tried to picture the situation in his mind and had to confess that he found it very easy to imagine.

"I still don't understand," he spoke again with a frown. "If you want to stop – let's just say – seeing him, I see no reason why you cannot just tell him so. I don't want to put it this way, but whatever's happening between Dearka and Yzak is their problem. Both of them have made a decision and that is not to fight back. They have to accept the consequences."

The chairman remained silent, back to staring at his cup, and the wheels in Nicol's mind kept revolving. He was right. There was something more to this. He could already guess what it was but decided that a gentle approach would help to smooth the way.

"Or is it something else that bothers you?" he asked carefully.

Green eyes flicked up faster than the speed of light. "What do you mean?"

"I think one of the reasons why you can't decide what to do is because you don't want to let him go."

A silence, one which Nicol actually preferred never to have any part in, caught up with them. He waited, trying to maintain his calm outward appearance despite feeling like he was going headfirst into a blind hunt. He knew that Athrun guarded his innermost feelings with something bordering on mad jealousy and hated nothing more than to see others touching them without his express permission. This time, however, Nicol realized that he would rather risk his friend's wrath than do nothing.

That was why when a thin smile unfolded on Athrun's face, he was rather taken aback.

"I guess it's time for me to admit it," the voice which answered to him was steady, almost nonchalant.

"So that means–"

"It's not quite like that," Athrun interrupted him, his composure lessening a little. "You're getting this wrong. I don't love him. Not in that way."

"And what way is that way?"

He got a weak smile in return but Nicol was so _not_ going to give this one up. He stared at Athrun, unaffected by the beseeching look, until the other man admitted defeat with a sigh. "All right, if I'm to be really honest with you, I… well, Ijustwanttoprotecthim."

Nicol blinked. He wasn't sure he had gotten that right. "You what?"

"I just want to protect him," Athrun repeated more slowly but also more faintly, looking at anywhere but him. "Maybe it sounds strange but I really do. If only you knew what he was like after Yzak left him. I'm afraid that if I..."

He faltered at that, but Nicol had already gotten all the hints he needed. "If you do the same, it will completely destroy him," he murmured, easily picking up the line.

Athrun stared at him, his face unreadable, but then shook his head. "No," he said bitterly. "When you put it that way, it sounds so good. So noble. In reality, I don't feel that selfless." There was a deafening pause, and then he added in a smaller voice, "Maybe I'm just afraid."

"Afraid that you'll love him?"

"Yes," his voice was now downright shaky. "God, I'm really disgusting."

Nicol felt a rush of painful emotion in his chest at this, at the sight of his friend biting his lips and shutting his eyes as if in pain. "No, Athrun," he quickly said, leaning forward to emphasize his point. "That is called selfish. And it's very human to be selfish."

The other man looked like he hardly listened. "This other guy I'm sleeping with," he mumbled, "I don't know who he is. As a matter of fact, I don't care who he is. And do you know why?" Nicol opened his mouth to stop him but Athrun didn't give him a chance, torrents of words gushing rapidly from his mouth, "Because I don't want people I love to get hurt because of me. I don't want someone who holds a grudge against me target any of you. Dearka is a mistake, but this other guy? I don't care. I don't even know who he is, so why should I care? I…"

"Enough, Athrun," Nicol cut him off sternly, aware that he was raising his voice but far from troubled by it at the moment. "You're just blaming yourself."

"That's what I really think, Nicol," was the flat answer he got and it disturbed him immensely because his friend sounded more normal than hysterical. "I'm not painting a bad picture of myself. I _am_ the bad picture. This is me. This is what I truly feel."

Nicol was shaking his head fervently. "No, that is _not_ you," he said fiercely, refraining himself from going round the table and shake him. "Even our opinion of ourselves can be clouded at times. You said you really didn't care about him? I know you. Don't expect me to believe it."

"Why else would I do that?"

"I don't know your circumstances with this man," he answered steadily, "but I do know many people who've done things far more stupid and outrageous than this to break loneliness."

"It still doesn't change anything," the stiff tone was back in Athrun's voice. "The fact is I've been using him for my own gain. I've been putting him in danger and despite knowing that, I'm still doing it."

Nicol decided to put up a better fight before his friend could get carried away again. "Did he object?"

The respond remained exasperatingly stubborn. "No, but it has nothing to do with the fact that I don't care I've been putting someone in danger. He'll run away as fast as he can if he knows what he's getting himself into."

"Athrun, you're only confused because of your problems with Dearka," he pointed out, desperation already shading his voice. "Stop trying to demean yourself. That only makes everything look worse than it actually is and certainly doesn't help. Why don't you calm down and we'll start once more from the beginning."

To his surprise, the chairman obeyed him and stopped talking. And when he thought that he couldn't be more surprised, a smile suddenly broke on Athrun's face.

"You sound like a true psychiatrist, do you know that?"

Nicol stared at him for a few seconds, flabbergasted. That was certainly not what he had expected, but then he remembered that there was this thing called 'mood swing' in his friend's dictionary. He couldn't help but to return the smile.

"Maybe I should charge you then. I can do with a second job," he told Athrun, who snorted at this suggestion.

"As if you need one."

They both were starting to laugh although neither of them understood what the funny thing actually was. For his part, Nicol was relieved that they could get off from the battleground for a moment. He really didn't like the direction their conversation had been going, but he knew that they had to talk about it. This problem was taking heavy tolls on his friend, more than he had thought at first. He had to search for another way to open a conversation without setting off the bomb.

A second later, however, he decided that in this stage of things, overlooking subtlety and taking the problem head-on was worth trying.

"You care for him, don't you?"

His not-quite-a-question question seemed to take Athrun aback for a moment. "Yes," he replied softly and Nicol wondered at how his green eyes seemed to shine brighter when he was speaking with pure honesty and nothing else. He knew that he was given a glimpse of one of those rare moments when Athrun Zala lowered his guard down and showed his heart to the world.

"Is that the reason why you want to end things with Dearka?"

"No," this one was less sure, but Athrun seemed to realize it too and wasted no time to confront it. "Well, maybe that isn't entirely true, but it's still just a very small part of the reason. I don't like to stand between Dearka and Yzak, that's the big one."

Nicol believed him. A part of him was glad that they had finally come to a definite point, but the rest still felt that they were missing something somewhere. He realized what it was a moment later.

"You do know that it's okay, don't you?"

The look on Athrun's face was incredulous. "What? Standing between them?"

"Falling in love with Dearka," he corrected. "Well, there will be consequences you don't like, but as long as you two can work it out–"

"It's not an option," Athrun cut him short, his voice flat and firm – and, Nicol realized, leaving no room for argument. He dutifully stayed silent now that he had understood the level of sensitivity this topic bore.

Falling in love with someone who was the love of someone else's life was one thing, but falling in love with someone who happened to be the love of your friend's life was quite another. Nicol wanted to point out that since Yzak had called it off with Dearka, the councilman really had no right to be resentful, but of course Athrun wouldn't listen to him. He could practically hear the respond he would get if he dared so much as to suggest it.

There were many sides of Athrun he had been introduced to, but above all, Nicol knew that he was a fiercely loyal friend. He wouldn't allow someone he cared about to be hurt and that was why this problem took so much of his attention. This time, he was the blade that wounded his friends, the wicked villain who ripped and razed and trampled.

And this was exactly the one perception he needed to correct. Nicol knew it would be a thoroughly complicated journey, considering how his first attempt had almost ended in a shouting match, and couldn't suppress a deep sigh.

"I shouldn't have left you for so long," he said dejectedly.

Athrun raised a pair of elegant eyebrows, looking amused. "Because then I'll get myself trapped in a big mess like now?"

"Not only you, Dearka and Yzak too. I'm not saying that my being there would definitely make things better, but now I don't know because I never tried."

"I don't see how this can be your fault, Nicol," his friend argued with a frown. "Don't try blaming yourself for something you didn't do."

"Exactly," the pianist sighed again. "That's because there was something I didn't do."

Athrun looked like he was about to remonstrate further, but the arrival of one of his aides stopped him from speaking. A piece of paper was given to him, which he took with a small 'thank you' and read as the aide withdrew to the direction of the door. Nicol knew that something had happened when his friend's face darkened and he looked back at him with stormy eyes, the piece of paper crushed in one hand.

"I have to go back to the office," Athrun told him, his voice tight with agitation.

"What's the matter?" he inquired carefully.

"Something happened in West Africa." He rose from his seat and held out a hand, saying apologetically, "I'm sorry about this, Nicol. After asking you all the way here, now I can't stay long."

"Don't worry about it," Nicol quickly stood up too and instead of taking the offered hand, followed his earlier instinct and went around the table to hug the other man. "I'll try talking to Yzak," he said gently, pretending not to realize the immediate tensing of his friend's body. "I'll be staying here for a few days anyway. Just keep your mind on West Africa and let me handle this for the moment."

"But–"

"I'm your friend, Athrun," he interrupted, gripping the other man's shoulders tightly. "Stop trying to patch up everything alone and let me help. You already have one entire country to worry about."

The flash of surprise and one other emotion he couldn't quite interpret in his friend's eyes told him that he should have said this long time ago.

  


\---

  


Kira was acting strange.

Cagalli frowned when for probably the millionth time that night her brother heaved a deep sigh and toyed with the hem of his shirt. After being his sister for… well, practically since he had been born, she could always tell when he was feeling a little bit off. Not to mention, there was a rerun of one of those cheesy black-and-white movies he loved so much on television, and even _that_ couldn't seem to keep a hold on his attention more than five seconds after every commercial break.

She was not an observer. Life passed her by in such a blur that she only had enough time to gather her wits, bark out orders and hope that she didn't miss anything in the process. This small deviance from normalcy, however, was so glaring that she had to be blind, deaf and stupid all at the same time, not to notice it. If she didn't know better, she would say that he was suffering this mortal disease called lovesickness.

But there were myriads of other reasons, which were not only more probable, but also a great deal more believable. Today hadn't been an uneventful day and after spending the day discussing and arguing about the conflict which had risen in West Africa, Cagalli decided that enjoying a rare leisure time after dinner while sipping hot Russian tea was in order. She dragged her twin along because she knew that he was as worried about their ephemeral peace as she was and while others might see this as a little unfair – after all, he was a military officer – she didn't give a damn. Kira deserved it.

Sometimes Cagalli wondered if it was a wise thing to do to give the role of the deliveryman to her brother. He was one of the most high-ranked officers in ORB military and had a huge range of responsibilities. The problem was, she couldn't trust anyone else. Attempting a communication with PLANT nowadays when you were evidently a country on Earth was a bold, even suicidal move. She couldn't just let anyone handle a matter as delicate as this.

Kira, sharing her concern on the confidential element, agreed almost immediately. His recurring absence might be conspicuous, but Colonel Fllaga was doing a splendid job covering for him. The older man did his part of the game without asking too many questions, a quality which she found utterly admirable.

On second thought, she could have sent him.

Or maybe not.

The point was, now she was unsure if she hadn't given her twin too much responsibility; hence her suggestion to him to keep away from work at least for tonight. Should anything happened, everyone knew where to contact them anyway.

But here he was, brooding and sighing and obviously some hundreds of miles away from enjoying himself from what she could tell. When he made that exasperating sound once more, Cagalli decided that enough was enough.

"Kira, will you tell me what's wrong?" she asked with a tone of voice as sweet and sisterly as possible in order not to frighten her brother.

The face which stared back at her was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You are..." she paused, fumbling around for the right word, and finally settled for the most obvious, "fidgety."

An uncomfortable look passed across his features. "Am I?"

She blew a bang out of her eyes, annoyed. "If you want to play that game, fine by me. Where shall we start? Twenty questions?"

For some reason, her brother's face turned into a slight shade of red. "It's not that important."

Cagalli snorted in disbelief. "Not important? Tell me something, Kira, do I really look that stupid to you?"

"I mean it doesn't concern politics or warfare or… anything important," he quickly corrected.

"And why would I be thinking that either politics or warfare could make you blush like a schoolgirl?"

He didn't answer this but his face flamed even more and Cagalli realized that she might have just struck gold. An idea started to ferment inside her head. Was it possible that her anal-retentive twin really…

"All right," he said heavily – so heavy in fact, that it sounded as if he had to drag each letter to get past his lips. "It's just that there is this guy–"

"I knew it!" she shouted triumphantly, grinning at her twin who was shooting her icy glares, and quickly added, "Okay, I'm going to shut up."

"Do we really have to talk about this?"

Cagalli exhibited one of her smuggest smirks unabashedly. "Of course you may tell me at your earliest convenience, dear brother, but please do so before this night ends because I'm sure as hell not going to let you sleep before–"

"There is this guy," he interrupted her, irritated, "whom I had the chance to meet some weeks ago. We seem to like each other and that's all. Satisfied?"

She shook her head slowly, fully conscious that this just added another degree to his annoyance. "You may want to be a little more specific than that," she told him with a serious voice, "because I still can't see any reason why this mystery man – who, assuming from your tone, is not important at all – occupies so much room in your head that you can't pay any attention to this movie and look!" She pointed at the television – where the heroine was presently wailing because she had just shot her lover who happened to be a secret agent from an enemy country or something, Cagalli didn't care that much – before looking back at him with gleaming eyes. "You don't even blink! You always cry during that part and now you don't even blink!"

"I hate you when you're like this," Kira mumbled darkly.

"Since it's a part of me, you'll have to deal with it," she said breezily. "Now talk."

Her twin gave her one last sour look before speaking up. "There's not much to talk about. I met this guy and we liked each other and blah blah blah. End of story. By the way, I met him at Dearka's party."

Cagalli stared at him, her former amusement diminishing faster than scoops of ice cream would during summer. "Kira, are you crazy?"

"Yes, I've figured that much myself," he murmured with a sigh, but she decided that she couldn't deal with it now lest she exploded.

"You met this guy at Dearka's party," she started, trying to keep her voice under control but aware that the bridle was slipping bit by bit, "which was a masquerade, which we attended together on the New Year's Eve, which was held in, if I'm not mistaken, Februarius One, which was undeniably a part of PLANT, which was a space settlement inhabited by Coordinators and no Natural at all, which was currently in a not-so-friendly relationship with most countries on Earth. Assuming that my line of deduction is right and I didn't happen to miss anything, which part of your brain, Kira, told you it was okay to do something so enormously, fabulously stupid like this?"

"I like you even less when you turn to sarcasms," he pointed out.

"I turn to sarcasm because my twin brother seems to think that it would be funny to play out the second act of _Romeo and Juliet_!" She was practically shouting now. "He's a Coordinator, Kira!"

His face suddenly gained a different shade of red. "Wait a minute. I thought the point of us trying to establish a contact with PLANT is so there will be no difference between Naturals and Coordinators? What happened to that _noble_ purpose?"

"Yes, and please bear in mind that we're still in the 'trying' stage!" Cagalli didn't lower her voice. "Look, I don't care if he's a Coordinator – besides, you're obviously one too – but I do care that we're down here and he's up there and after what happened today in West Africa, PLANT may want to blow up the remaining countries on Earth, and then OMNI will retaliate and send legions of mobile armors into space, and then you'll really get yourself a perfect Capulet-Montague situation!"

A thunderous silence occurred. Her chest was still heaving after the shouting, but Kira only stared at her with this unreadable expression on his face. She eyed him warily, inwardly preparing herself for any kind of argument he might come up with. She was getting very good at this.

And then unexpectedly, all of a sudden, out of the blue, red, green or orange, who the hell care, her brother smiled at her.

"I really love you, Cagalli, do you know that?"

Cagalli felt like she was missing a point somewhere. "Wha...?"

"I know you're worried about me," he continued with a softer voice, a gentler smile, "but I'll be okay. I know what I'm doing, or at least have a vague idea of what I'm doing, but still. Don't worry about it."

"I just…" she paused, waving her hands around at a sudden loss for words.

"I know and I really thank you for that. You don't know how much that means to me," he bent closer and placed a kiss on her cheek – and suddenly the long couch they were sharing seemed far, far smaller than it had been a fraction of a second ago. But maybe it had something to do with her sudden urge to run away.

"I have a vague idea," she murmured wryly, feeling her face heating up, and he laughed. Cagalli decided that since she couldn't bury her head into the carpet, the best course of action would be to change the subject. And so she did.

"So who is this man?" she asked in a hopefully casual tone.

Kira cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, that is certainly a difficult one to answer," he said with a weak half-smile and at his sister's raised eyebrows, added in a smaller voice, "We don't know each other."

"You don't… what does _that_ mean, you don't know each other?" Cagalli could already hear her voice rising again.

"It was a masquerade, remember?"

This was inadequate and he seemed to know it too, which was why he quickly added another explanation, "We didn't introduce ourselves to each other."

The earlier headache was returning to her. _Fast_. Cagalli closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You disappeared some time before the countdown," she said flatly.

"I was with him."

"And I'm assuming you're still in contact with him."

"Yes."

"But you don't know each other."

"No."

"Kira, you're absolutely mental."

"I know," he laughed but it sounded a little strained. "You have to see him, Cagalli. He's... I don't know, I think I'm bewitched."

"It does sound like you are," she commented dryly. "Did I have a chance to meet him?"

A kind of light she had never seen before came to her brother's eyes. "As a matter of fact, yes. He's that blue-haired man you had a dance with. The one with the silver mask."

She looked at him for a long moment and then whistled appreciatively, grinning. "Well, well."

"Now you see what I mean."

"Yes, I think I can understand why you're falling head over heels with him," she chuckled, nudging him on the ribs. "Is he handsome?"

"I don't know."

"Kira!"

"And I don't really care," he said fiercely, his eyes challenging her to say more. Cagalli stared at him, openmouthed. During times like this, she felt like she was arguing with a ridiculously stubborn seven-year-old boy rather than with her supposedly-of-the-same-age twin brother.

But trying to go against Kira who had that look on his face was about as productive as singing 'Happy Birthday' to a deaf man from Pluto or Andromeda or what other existing galaxies out there. Her point was, it was so overwhelmingly useless that she must be either moronic or simply brainless to even consider doing so.

In this kind of circumstances, withdrawing to a neutral zone seemed to be the safest way out, both for her mental health and reputation.

"One thing for sure, he knows how to dance," she said after a moment of turning her head upside down for neutral subjects.

"And to kiss."

Which might be not so neutral at all. Cagalli stared at him with hardly-covered trepidation for one long minute before risking another question. "Am I going to regret it if I dare to ask how far you two have–"

"Yes."

Her smile was painful. "Okay, that pretty much explains the situation," she murmured to no one in particular, trying with all her might not to scream out loud. She couldn't believe it. _Men!_ Sex first, talk later. She always knew there was something wrong with that gender!

Kira was looking at him anxiously, so Cagalli took a deep breath and again moved to another subject. "So, why are you nervous?" she asked him, hoping that the fact that there was a vein twitching on the left corner of her forehead went unnoticed by him.

But it looked like she didn't have to worry. Her brother was too busy covering his obvious reluctance to answer the question.

"I'm waiting for a call," he mumbled in a small voice.

"From him."

"Yes."

"You are behaving exactly like a love-struck schoolgirl," Cagalli declared ruthlessly. That was the best she could do at the moment. After all, the majority of her self-restraint was already spent in order to keep her head away from the nearest rock-hard surface, which unfortunately were available in copious abundance inside this room. The coffee table was one example among a million.

To her astonishment, Kira responded with a laugh. "I know I'm being stupid in this thing."

"Stupid? Losing a few screws in your head is more like it."

"Cagalli, I'm–"

"Don't," she cut him off, knowing what he was about to say. "I'm not sorry yet and I want to keep it that way. So don't let me hear anything that can make me feel sorry that I've decided not to beat the living crap out of you tonight. Is that understood?"

Kira grinned at her. "Yes, Ma'am."

They fell into a companionable silence and returned their attention to the television. After about ten seconds looking at the movie which she totally had no idea why they were still watching, Cagalli found her mind drifting to other topics. She didn't want to think about her twin and his unidentified boyfriend, so a minute later she was already immersed in the problems she had to face in her office earlier that day.

Someone might be tempted to mention that the point of staying at home and taking the night off was to relieve her mind for a moment from the need to worry over things, but already waist-deep in devising a possible response to the last letter from PLANT, Cagalli didn't care much. She hadn't stopped thinking about it since Kira had returned, and the frequency only increased after this new conflict in West Africa.

Talking about peace nowadays was regarded as either foolish or childish. She didn't know whether it had anything to do with the fact that both she and the current Chairman of PLANT were relatively young, but they had had a chance once. There had been contacts already and both sides seemed inclined to proceed further. For the first time in years, she saw hope.

And then this happened. Cagalli always prided herself as an optimistic woman, but in her opinion the prospect now was about as bright as looking into a trash can. Even if the chairman and his staff wished to continue pursuing a peaceful solution, she wasn't sure if his people would agree. More blood had been spilled. There must be revenge.

Every time she remembered this, Cagalli always felt this overwhelming anger toward someone – she didn't even know who. She wanted to blame someone. This might have just worked, but now…

"What are you thinking about?"

She looked up, finding Kira looking at her curiously, and heaved a deep sigh. "What happened in West Africa today."

"It's bad," he agreed with a nod. "To make it worse, the South African Union claimed that it was the work of a separatist group and they had nothing to do with it."

"And you believe it?"

"Our intelligence in Victoria doesn't."

Cagalli returned her gaze to the television where the credits were rolling in, shaking her head slowly. "More than a thousand Naturals died, Kira. I don't know about Coordinators, but this isn't going to be good for us."

Her brother didn't reply, but she could feel his eyes on her, burning a hole at the side of her head. After a few minutes, she remembered who was the more accomplished person in patience between them and looked back at him, admitting her loss.

"What?"

He didn't smile – in fact, he didn't even blink at this small victory – and only said, "PLANT is waiting for our answer."

She let out a small dry chuckle. "Are they still? Think, Kira. After what happened in West Africa, they will reconsider the merits of taking our offer – which if I may add, sound a little too insignificant and far-fetched at the moment. Assuming that the chairman really wishes to cooperate with us, I don't think the clash was provoked by their side and you know what that means."

"Then we'll have to make a bigger offer," he said resolutely. Cagalli lifted her eyebrows, uncertain.

"That one?"

"It's time for one of us to make a bolder move," he pointed out.

"Actually I was under the impression that we have been doing pretty bold things all along," she mumbled, evoking a smile from him. "You do realize that it's crazy, right?"

"I thought we're already past that point."

"Right," she chuckled and punched the side of his arm lightly. "But they have to be mad too if they decide to accept out offer because it's totally, utterly crazy."

Kira grinned at her. "Then it's just perfect. We're going to be a bunch of madmen fighting for peace. What can possibly be better?"

Cagalli laughed and leant closer to him until her head touched his shoulder. It never failed to surprise her how these small contacts she shared with her brother could make a tremendous effect on her mood. They made her feel safer, stronger, better, and sometimes, when she was with him like this, one or two peace agreements seemed perfectly attainable if not effortless. She used to blame it on the fact that they were twins, but for the moment, she was just glad that she had him.

"It won't be easy," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

Kira wound an arm around her shoulders, his fingers brushing her hair, and replied matter-of-factly, "If it was, thousands of people would have done it already and we wouldn't be facing this problem."

"True," she smiled at him, suddenly wishing that she was stronger. Kira seemed concerned by this reaction and so she quickly said again, "You know, I was thinking about Scandinavia. They're supposed to be neutral, right?"

"Supposed to be," he reminded her.

Cagalli straightened up a bit and looked at him. "I seem to remember that you were the one who was talking about making bolder moves. Where has your courage run off to?"

"There is only a very thin line between courage and madness," he told her with a twinkle in his eyes, "but since we're all already mad, that's beside the point. So you want to involve them?"

She shook her head. "Not involve. Notify. I will let them know that we're taking this course of action and see what they're going to do. If they have some guts, they will come up and support us." She paused, belatedly realizing that she sounded ridiculous saying that in this condition. "I'm too optimistic, aren't I?"

"Being optimistic is your specialty," her twin said without bothering to hide his amusement. Cagalli chose to ignore this.

"We'll have to start drafting a plan as soon as possible. And as much as I hate saying this, we shouldn't keep the other representatives out of the loop any longer. If PLANT says yes, we're going all-out."

"A meeting."

"Yes," she nodded and breathed in deeply to calm herself. After the plan was put into words, not only lingering as far-off thoughts and indefinable ideas, she had just realized how big it actually was. "A meeting with PLANT, out in the open so the whole world can see what we are trying to do. And then…"

"And then we'll have to be ready for anything that may follow," Kira supplied darkly.

She smirked at him. "That's your area."

"Before it comes to me, dear sister, you have to do everything within your power to prevent it from becoming _my_ problem," Kira pointed out. "The Earth Alliance's response may not be necessarily military, you know."

"Yeah, right. Do you honestly believe that?"

"No."

"Then shut up," she chuckled but knew that it sounded edgy. Kira seemed to notice this too because the hand on her shoulder suddenly tightened. It took every bit of her strength to look at him again, and when she did, she was a hair's breadth away from completely breaking down.

"Am I jeopardizing my people, Kira?" she whispered, her question almost unintelligible in the thick robe of tremor.

Her brother did not say anything for a long time. Cagalli could tell that he was twisting and bending his mind to come up with a way to soften the blow because she knew that it was exactly what she was doing.

Jeopardizing her people. Dishing out their lives for the so-called higher purpose.

A sacrifice.

At last Kira opened his mouth. "I'm not gonna say that everyone in ORB will be happy with this plan," he said, his tone somber, "but don't you think everyone will want to fight for what they believe?"

She gave him a little smile, both hopeful and grim. "It sounds very idealistic."

"This country was built on ideals, Cagalli."

"I thought people are the nation, not ideals."

"You know your people," his voice was firm, almost stern and she realized that he was determined to win this part of their dispute at any cost. "They want to fight for what's right and good. And in fact, it isn't only ORB. Many citizens of the world think like we do, that this war is wrong. Their government may disagree, but that's why we're here, right? To start."

She opened her mouth to make another argument, but he leant in, resting his forehead on hers. "And remember, the voice of the people is the voice of God."

For some reason, this made her laugh. "Don't go quoting Alcuin this late," she protested and pushed him away. "You're creeping me out and now my head is hurting."

"Maybe you should get some rest," he suggested. "We'll talk more about the plan tomorrow, okay?"

She smiled at him. "You go ahead. I still want to sit here and brood."

"Don't stay up too late."

He was rising from the couch when Cagalli suddenly caught his hand. "Hey, Kira," she started, unsure how to approach the subject but getting on anyway. "This may be nothing at all and I'm not trying to butt in on your business or anything, but you see – this man you're seeing – he's very well-versed in politics. I think he's a man of considerable power and I..." she gulped. Oh, her brother was _so_ going to get it later for making her say this. "...I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thank you," he smiled and bent down to kiss her cheek. "I love you too, Cagalli."

And how in the name of Haumea could he say embarrassing things like that without being embarrassed?

Cagalli decided that the first thing she would do when she got up tomorrow morning was to call Millie and ask for Dearka's number. Coordinators or Naturals be damned. She must know who that man was.

  


\---

  


His eyes hurt.

Shinn reached out toward his desk lamp and turned it off, sighing deeply when darkness bathed his eyes. They were watering a bit, something which he had just realized after working nonstop for….

…almost four hours.

He stared at the glowing numbers from the clock on his desk in disbelief. It was a quarter past ten. Shinn knew that he could get very absorbed in his job sometimes, but this was way over his normal standard. Usually, he could barely spend an hour behind his desk, glued to a chair without getting up and walking around the desk a few times, wishing that he had not taken up the job.

Today was different because for the first time since she had become the chairman's secretary, Meyrin had forgotten to give him a copy of the itinerary for the following week. He had not received it on his desk like he should have every Friday and Shinn was so astonished by this that it didn't occur to him to contact her immediately. It wasn't like Meyrin to forget.

As the result, he had just gotten the copy this evening. Meyrin had been apologizing to him since then, but what was done was done and Shinn had no choice but to confine himself in his cramped office for hours to make the necessary preparations. The chairman would make a visit to Januarius next week and Shinn wanted to make sure that they would be ready to take everything which might be coming their way. Absolute protection might not be possible, but he sure as hell wanted to stay close to that point.

What worried him was the increased activity of many groups of late. There were some that despised Athrun so much to the point that killing him would be regarded as an act of heroism, the epitome of justice and virtue. Their increasing activity was, of course, hardly good news for him. Not to mention today's incident in West Africa. He wasn't directly involved, but seeing the chairman spending the better part of the day cooped up with his military advisors and officers, even he could tell that it was bad.

Which really went without saying. This was the first major conflict after almost a year. Of course it was bad. Since the news had reached them, Athrun had been sporting this look on his face which might as well say that PLANT was under attack. Councilman Jule's expression was a little more terrifying and Shinn noticed that people had been busy clearing out of his way all day.

He was considering checking if Athrun was still in his office – which might earn himself another reprimand for his overanxious character which was bordering on neurotic according to the chairman – when there was a knock on the door to his office. He stared at it for a long moment, wondering who the hell on earth would be knocking on his door at this hour.

"Come in," he replied but not before reaching for his gun first and turning on the lamp.

Two familiar faces walked in and Shinn was forced to reflect if Athrun was right, even if just a little. He was too easily agitated.

"You called, Sir?"

And how could he possibly forget that? He had just called them about half-an-hour ago to meet him here in his office.

Selina Cavarallo and Rob Markham, two of his best agents and the golden pair of the squad. The utter dissimilarity of their characters might just be exactly why they could work together so well, although this level of cooperation was obviously not obtained in one night. Cavarallo, a young dark-haired woman who had habit to flirt with every handsome man within a one-mile radius, was the literal opposite of her partner, a tall blonde man, whose personal motto was obviously 'silence is golden'. Their cooperation, however, proved to be better than most for as far as he could see.

Professionalism notwithstanding, there was a talk within their small group about the true nature of relationship between those two. Shinn could hardly give a damn what his agents did in their free hours as long as they carried out their appointed task to perfection – and of course, as long as nothing they did was detrimental in any way to the chairman. He sometimes dwelt on the possibility that their close personal life might be affecting them in work, but so far none of them had disappointed him, so he basically had no grounds for complaining.

That was, of course, until he discovered that neither of them was attracted to the opposite sex. They could play the role of lovers if they had to – and this was very useful if they had to do their job in disguise – but it was a point-blank fact that they were gay. And they were – or at least Cavarallo was – damn proud of it.

(Which brought him to the question why she flirted with every man in the vicinity, including but not limited to her superior – which was him – and this question had plagued him since the moment he found out about their preferences. Much, much later, he discovered that it was only for the sake of seeing them squirm. But not like he cared anyway.)

Shinn cleared his throat. "I know you two aren't due until eleven, but I want to discuss something first. This is about the visit to Januarius next Wednesday and I want both of you on the team."

Whether they were surprised or ecstatic or simply puzzled by this announcement, Shinn honestly couldn't tell. He proceeded to give each of them a copy of the itinerary and lend the list of details he had just composed in the last four hours.

"There will be a briefing for the whole team on Sunday and another on Tuesday's night. The visit itself will take up the whole day, as you can see in that paper. Learn it and commit every letter to your memory, because I want you to know _and_ remember what he's doing during this or that hour. As for the details, I'll give them to you at the briefing after I make some more copies." He paused for a moment and then added, "I know you two usually take the night shift, but I want to be prepared for this visit. Since the chairman will be out in the open quite often, we may have to expect the worse."

"No problem, Sir," Cavarallo answered with a grin. "We know how much you depend on us."

"Just for that comment, Cavarallo, I may reconsider my decision for giving you a night off tomorrow."

Her face fell but she quickly recovered with a wider grin. "Well, quite fine by me, Sir, if I can get a chance to see that handsome brunet again. Right, Rob?" she nudged her silent partner who only gave her a dark look.

Shinn stared at her. "Brunet?"

"Oops. Not supposed to talk about that, are we?" she giggled, feigning remorse very badly that he had to wonder what she was doing here in his squad. On second thought, it might be deliberate.

"What brunet? What are you talking about?"

"The chairman's guest a week ago, Sir. You know, _the_ night visitor."

Shinn wasn't sure if he was more confused or panicked at this point. "Are you sure his hair wasn't blonde?" he pressed on, feeling his heartbeat speeding up with each second.

"It could be, I suppose," she murmured, obviously uncertain, and threw a look at her partner who only shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. Seemed like brown to me, but it was quite dark back then."

"And yet you could see that he was handsome?" he asked dryly.

"That took an entirely different talent, Sir," she answered with an impish grin.

"Whatever," he waved a hand and returned his gaze to the list of details. "You two are dismissed. I'll let you know about my decision tomorrow."

"Aw, but you know, Sir, if you decide today then I may get a chance to call my girl and–"

By the time they reached his door – Cavallaro was quite literally dragged by her partner – Shinn had completely tuned her out. His eyes were staring at the list but his mind was a few universes away.

Brunet?

  
 __**End Chapter 5**  
  



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